Tormented soul
by Cerone
Summary: Set after the beheading of the orc in the second Hobbit movie. Thranduil returns to his chambers after hearing about the One, trying to reign in the surfacing fear of a second Dagorlad. Chapter 2: During the Battle of Five Armies Legolas finds out about his father's grave injury. Chapter 3: Thranduil recovers in Imladris. Chapter 4: Thranduil participates in a White Council meeting
1. Scarred

Upon entering his chambers, Thranduil removed his sword belt and threw it unceremoniously into one corner the large room. He couldn't care less. His mind was elsewhere, back at Dagorlad, back where dread and fear had reigned. The same dread that now clutched his heart so strongly he couldn't breathe anymore. "I can't do this again! I can't go through this a second time!", he told himself, leaning heavily on a sideboard.

Before he saw it, he felt the soft caress on his left cheek. He flinched slightly as he always did, when something touched him where he couldn't see, because of his blinded left eye. Even though he knew exactly who had touched him and that this person meant no harm, but old habits die hard and he had never been able to switch of his warrior reflexes, that had saved his life countless times. And who could understand that better than the only person who dared to touch the ugly side of his being, the manifestation of the darkness, the shadow of bitterness and unscrupulousness that had taken residence inside of him a long time ago, when he had seen his men massacred and die a slow and painful, senseless death.

Not even his wife had dared to touch him, where nothing but raw tendons were left, not even when the illusion he created was so strong, that it felt like touching healthy flesh and skin. He had seen it in her eyes, the repulsion, the disgust. It had shattered his self-confidence and boosted his vanity. He had been known as one of the fairest elves of Middle Earth and he still would be in the future. He became who he was now, a lone and bitter elf, but he wasn't going to change that. Life was a lot easier with less people around that could potentially inflict heartache. Even his son he kept at arm's length, never letting him in on his thoughts, never showing him his real self, his scared inner being and his scared face, out of fear of taking him down with him, when the time finally came when he would drown in the darkness that was within him. So he had learned to wield a sword with only half his field of vision, learned how to reach out for things without the perception of depth, he had learned to cope with his disability but not with his vanity, for like his wife he couldn't face his real appearance, never had and never would, because he loathed the ugliness of it, the unelfishness of it.

But he felt that now he was nearing his limit. He was tired, tired of fighting off the threats to his kingdom, which never ceased but increased the more they fought them. This fight for his kingdom, for his people, or what was left of them drained him of all his energy, left him with little reserve for what was to come, for what the orc had predicted, for a second Dagorlad. He had been there once and although he was now in his chambers, a part of him was at Dagorlad, now and always, would always be there and never leave, not even when he sailed. And he had no energy left to reign in his inner darkness. Every day he felt his control slip away a little more, felt his conscience being repressed by his rage, his lust for revenge and desperation.

"I didn't expect you.", he said, when he turned around to face his visitor, looking directly into the grey eyes of the Lord of Imladris.

"I felt your despair."

"There is nothing new about me being in despair, Elrond. Even you couldn't have missed that after so long a time."

Elrond smiled, not taking the bait. "I felt it growing stronger."

"Well, it never shrank once."

"There is always a first time for everything."

"I admire your optimism, but there won't be a first time for me."

"Maybe it's not optimism but foresight."

"Then Peredhel, I fear your ability of foresight is weakening."

"Does it trouble you again?" It was a quick change of topic, but Thranduil had no trouble following Elronds line of thoughts. He knew perfectly well to what Elrond was referring. He shook his head.

"No, but I lost my temper and showed it to Thorin Oakenshield."

Elrond looked surprised. "So they made it to Mirkwood."

"You knew they were coming?"

Elrond nodded. "Mithrandir brought them to Imladris not long ago. I deciphered the map they had with them, a map of Erebor."

"We captured them in the forest, but they escaped." A fact that made Thranduil still furious beyond words, but was diminished by the fear the orc's speech had installed in his chest.

"We captured an orc." He turned away before going on. "He was talking about his master serving the One."

And Elrond knew at once what the Elvenking in front of him feared. "Radagast found something in Dol Guldur. He gave it to Mithrandir to take it to the White Council. It was a Morgul blade forged for the Witchking of Angmar. He was telling us about a necromancer, who's taken residence in Dol Gul-"

"This is not just about some necromancer!", Thranduil cut in.

"Thranduil, we have lived in peace for over four hundred years…!"

Thranduil snorted and he felt a headache coming.

"Don't tell me about peace! You might have lived in peace, while we are run over by dark creatures. Peace…"

He laughed a bitter laugh.

"I can't even remember what it feels like to live in peace. So stop talking about peace with me. The elves of Imladris and the elves of Lorien know nothing about what is going on in Middle Earth. You in your sanctuaries, sheltered from the rest of the world, hiding behind your rings of power. You know nothing about the death we have to face here every day of our lives, the fear I suffer of losing my son, finding him in the woods, sliced open, beheaded, tortured, looking at me with his empty eyes, accusing me of letting them down, leading them into a war we couldn't win, causing their deaths because I was too proud to be selfish, because I –"

"Thranduil!", Elrond exclaimed, stopping his line of thoughts, bringing him back into his chambers in Mirkwood. "You were in that dark place again, weren't you?"

Thranduil turned away from Elrond trying to let it look casually by reaching for a carafe on a nearby sideboard, when he was indeed trying to hide the fact that he had indeed lost control over his mind again. He loathed, when he lost control, when his thoughts slipped his control, wandered freely. He poured himself a glass of wine, moving slowly to buy himself more time to compose himself.

"The orc said death is upon us.", he tried to change the topic, back to the dangers that lay in the future, not in the past. "The flames of war are upon us."

Flames eating skin and flesh away, leaving nothing but bones, death and despair behind, like they did with him. Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling the painful caress of the flames on his cheek again, burning away not only flesh but also his care for other people, making room for his selfish pride.

"I don't have a ring of power to fall back on…", he said quietly.

"I can't go through this again, Elrond… I simply can't! I can't go there again! I don't think I have this much strength in me to go down this path again. I'm going to lose what little is left of me in the progress."

Elrond touched his forehead and Thranduil heart his soft voice filling his head. "Don't go there, mellon nin. Stay with me. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad."

And suddenly he could feel the wind… blowing through the valley of Imladris, slightly foaming the waters of the Bruinen, blowing over the highest summits of the Misty Mountains, stirring up freshly fallen snow into twisters, blowing over the vast lands of Rohan, caressing the blades of grass and blowing through the dark depth of the Mirkwood forest, playing with the leaves of the trees that were his home. He felt the energy flowing into his body, felt the dread letting go of his tortured heart and the peace of the blue sky seeping into his body, repressing the ever present memories of dead warriors watching him with their empty eyes from below out of the cold and clear waters of the swamps of Dagorlad, mocking him and his own survival of the war, for he had lead them there as their new king, sending them to their deaths, for nothing. The One Ring still existed and so did Sauron. He was certain of it, felt it in is tormented heart. He was still out there, waiting and preparing to seize power again, to bring death and torture about them all. But now at least he was freed of these dark thoughts. His mind was filled with the beauty of Middle Earth's nature and he felt the strong connection to it once again. He felt himself breathing freely again, taking in the fresh and earthy smell of the forest and its inhabitants surrounding him. His mind again in the here and now more than it had been in the last few weeks, since Elrond's last visit, since the last time Elrond had touched him with Vilya. He took his time, enjoying these feelings a little longer, getting new energy from them for what lay ahead, because he knew they wouldn't last long. And when he opened his eyes again, Elrond was still there waiting patiently for him, smiling. Their eyes met and Elrond's smile faltered just a little.

"When I look into your eyes I always feel like being back there in front of Mordor, fearing for my king's and kin's lives." Then why are you ever looking at me, when I only remind you of the worst days of your life?

"I never left." I 'm still there, armed and bleeding, standing among the corpses.

"I know, but I am going to take you home."

Thranduil turned away, shaking his head. "That's to no avail. Not even the birth of my son could bring me back from the fields of Dagorlad."

"We will see, mellon nin."

Mellon nin… Thranduil couldn't recall the time and place when someone had last clled him a friend. He had always been a king and a father but not a friend. Until he went to Elrond to seek help, swallowing his pride and his hatred for the Peredhel. The last person in Middle Earth who would consider him a friend… at least that was what he had thought. It wasn't often that he was proven to be so wrong.

It had been a time, when the ever present pain in his jaw had intensified, driving him to the brink of madness. Legolas hadn't been fully grown yet and even if he could only be a distant father, we wouldn't have left his son so early in life. For he knew of the dreads that came with losing a father especially during a time when becoming a king was an especially hard task, as it had been for him in the middle of a raging war and as it would have been for young Legolas during a time, when dark shadows infested Mirkwood Forest. And he was the only parent Legolas had left.

It had been a decision born out of pure desperation to go to the abhorred Peredhel and ask for his healing advice, a decision he had only made for his son, a son who would never know how deeply loved he was by his father.

"_King Thranduil."_

_Elrond bowed his head slightly, demonstrating respect for the King of the Woodland Realm, while Thranduil just watched the Peredhel he so loathed. He himself didn't bow his head. He was a king, the Peredhel a mere Lord, ranging below him. He would never bow to him, no matter what his family tree said about his noble inheritance._

_"What brings you here? We didn't expect you."_

_Thranduil was unimpressed by the politeness, by the show the Peredhel put on, when he knew how much the Peredhel must hate him because of what had been. _

_"How could you? I didn't send a messenger.", Thranduil replied coldly, his patience wearing thin, because of this useless exchange of pleasantries, while the pain in his cheek grew from day to day. So he gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride. _

_"I came to you for a consultation.", he grinded out._

_He saw the surprise on the Peredhel's face and for the first time it occurred to him that the Peredhel might refuse to help him. Deep down that scared him. This might be his only change, Legolas' only change. He didn't know how long he could still endure the pain without going insane._

_"A consultation? What about?", the Peredhel asked, already looking for signs of an illness or a wound._

_Thranduil turned to his guards and sent them away. Nobody would see his real face, nobody but the Peredhel. When he turned back to the Lord of Imladris, he was still waiting patiently for Thranduil to go on. But Thranduil decided that he wouldn't tell the Peredhel. He would let him see his real face, his ugliness without a warning. To see the Peredhel's shocked face would at least be a small victory on the day he came crawling to this abhorred half-elven. Their eyes met and Thranduil chose that moment to let go of the illusion covering the missing part of the left side of his face and his clouded, dead eye. But instead of being shocked the Peredhel didn't even flinch. Without hesitation he came over, stopping right in front of Thranduil._

_"A dragon's fire.", was all he said before taking a closer look._

_And then suddenly he felt the soft touch of the Peredhel's fingers on his chin turning his head slightly to have a better look. He flinched, taking a step back and looking dumbfounded at the Peredhel. No one had touched his face in hundreds of years. For hundreds of years he hadn't felt the soft touch of another being on his face and the sensation, the mere experience of something so banal yet lost to him caught him off guard._

_"Did my touch hurt you?"_

_Thranduil shook his head, while trying to regain his composure, fighting for it._

_"No."_

_Elrond looked at him with his penetrating storm grey eyes._

_"Is it sensitive to the touch?"_

_And again he was rendered speechless._

_"I… I don't know. I haven't touched it…" … in centuries, he finished the sentence in his mind._

_This consultation was slipping out of his control and he hated that fact. He had to get back in control._

_"It doesn't matter. It hurts whether I'm awake or asleep and the pain is worsening. I need something against the pain!" His voice was stable again, hard and demanding, back to normal. But the Peredhel remained unimpressed and sighed._

_"What?" Thranduil's impatience grew by the second._

_"I'm afraid I can't help you. The wound is too old, to deep and inflicted by dragon fire… Maybe if the wound had been tended to properly at the beginning there would be a chance but I'm afraid it's too late for that. A dragon fire is a strong magic weapon."_

_Thranduil felt the panic rise in his chest. The Peredhel had been his only chance, the best healer in all of Middle Earth. He hadn't thought about not getting any help here in Imladris. He had envisioned himself returning to Mirkwood without pain, had fantasized about it… but now… what about Legolas?_

_"There has to be something you can do!"_

_But Elrond shook his head._

_"Maybe you sailing to th-"_

_"I'm not going to sail to these damned Undying Lands! My place is here with my people, with my son! I'm not going to take the easy way out!", he practically screamed._

_And the damned Peredhel's only answer was a sign, followed by a long pause. The he took a deep breath._

_"I see."_

_He raised his head, meeting Thranduil's ice blue eyes with his storm grey ones._

_"I'm willing to try something on you, but there is no guaranty that it is going to work."_

_"Do it!", Thranduil answered without thinking it over._

_He was willing to risk nearly everything. Elrond nodded and rolled the right sleeve of his robe up, while coming over to Thranduil again. The Elvenking watched his every step till the Peredhel stopped right in front of him. The Peredhel raised his right hand to Thranduil's scared cheek and then Thranduil saw it, the golden ring with the blue sapphire… Vilya. He could feel the pulsating power, where the ring was close to his face. When Elrond laid his hand on Thranduil's injured cheek , a pleasant cold radiated from the Peredhel's hand into his burning, throbbing wound, soothing the pain almost immediately and Thranduil con't hold back the sigh of relief that left his mouth, when he felt nearly free of pain for the first time in one century._

When he found his way back to reality, Elrond was still standing in his chambers. And again he was smiling. Sometimes Thranduil thought that the Peredhel was smiling too much on his account.

"You were lost in memories. Not the evil kind I suppose."

Thranduil nodded. "No indeed, not entirely bad memories."

"Very well then. I hope I could ease your despair for the time being, mellon nin."

"Your visit was quite welcome."

This was all the thank the Peredhel would get from the Elvenking and he knew it. For Thranduil was a king scarcely giving his thanks to anyone, so the Peredhel knew that Thranduil was already making concessions.

"Farewell for now, vigorous spring."

"It is just a name, peredhel."

"It might just be a name but it hasn't been bestowed upon you for nothing."

The Peredhel smiled but Thranduil chose not to reply. Instead he just watched the Peredhel disappear in front of him. Just don't take wait too long till your next visit, he thought to himself, for he would never admit it aloud, but he always looked forward to talking to the peredhel. With him he could talk about topics he couldn't discuss with the people inside his kingdom. He was their king, their leader and because of that he had to be distant, he had to make decisions free of personal preference but decision that where the best for his people as a whole. He couldn't let them in on his thoughts, his decisions as a king, even though this meant that he would be a lone ruler.

Elrond on the other hand didn't belong to his people. With him he could talk about his thoughts and decisions without having to fear for his reputation. As the time progressed the regular meetings to ease the pain in his jaw which went along with polite political talk progressed to more frequent meetings which were not only about the ease of the pain but more about talking and exchanging thoughts not only on politics but on past and present experiences as well. Elrond had been there like him, fighting on the battle plain of Dagorlad, experiencing the same losses and physical and mental scars. With him he could speak about the dark thoughts lurking within him because of what he had experienced. He knew that Elrond wouldn't be shocked or disgusted by his tormented state of mind, because Elrond could relate. Elrond accepted his bad tempers, his passive aggressiveness and cruelties, his vanity and his aloofness. For Elrond knew, that while some elves had overcome most of their traumatic experiences of the Ring War, had had the strength to fully recover from their physical and psychic wounds, had learned to live with what they had experienced, there were others, like Thranduil himself, had never been able to overcome the traumatic events. His soul would be dark and twisted till the end of time. There was no escape for him, only dilution but no deliverance…never.


	2. Buried

While the orc, who had been on the receiving end of one of the two elven blades he was wielding, collapsed in front of him, Thranduil was already focusing on the next orc, who was throwing himself at him, out of the shadow of his fallen comrade, but Thranduil was already expecting him, welcoming him with the raised tip of the sword in his left hand. He heard the faint cracking of breaking bones, as his blade drove into the body of his enemy, but he was all too familiar with that sound to even care. Instead he used his second blade to slice the throat of his enemy, ending the life of the orc, still hanging on his left blade. He felt himself sway for a blink of a second, feeling the exhaustion after hours of endless fighting. He took a deep breath, trying to force the exhaustion away. Just when he wanted to yank his blade out of the dead body, he felt a sudden movement of air on his left cheek, indicating that something big was coming his way with a high speed, where his vision was limited. A blink of a second later, when his brain had just given the order to turn to his left to receive what was coming, he felt the impact, a strong impact, knocking the air out of his lungs and him mercilessly to the ground.

He wasn't sure if he had lost consciousness for a few seconds. He felt disorientated, when he reopened his eyes, laying on his right side, feeling the wet and blood stained ground beneath him. The water and blood leaked through his armor, wetting his undergarments. They clung to his skin and he could feel the cold seeping into his body replacing the warmth. It didn't take long for his clothes to be fully soaked and he felt like lying in a swamp, a swamp like in Dagorlad, where he had been wading through the soaked ground, trying not to trip over the countless corpses of his kin, feeling the warm blood of the fallen warriors and the cold water of the swamps soak his boots and leggings, the additional weight making his every step more difficult, wearing him down, inviting him to just give up and lie down with his dead comrades to die.

Panic rose within him and he tried to fight off the vivid memories invading his mind. He told himself, he was not on the battle fields of Dagorlad! He was at the foot of Erebor, fighting a different battle alongside dwarfs and men. This was not Dagorlad! But he couldn't fight them off, couldn't fight off the pale hands of his dead people reaching for him, grabbing his ankles, his legs, pulling him down into the swamps, whispering into his ears, begging him:

_"Stay with us, Thranduil Oropherion. You led us here, King Thranduil, so stay with us!"_

In fear he tried to yank his legs free, struggling for his freedom, his life but they wouldn't let go, instead he felt more and more hands grabbing his legs, pulling him into the cold waters, pulling him to his death and to insanity. He desperately clung to a nearby patch of high grass, holding on for dear life and sanity, as he watched the grass swing in a gentle breeze. Vilya! He focused his mind on the swinging grass blades, on the gentle breeze caressing his skin, pushing aside the ghosts of his past. He remembered Vilya's cold touch, relieving him of his pains, forcing back his dark side of mind, restoring his sanity. He thought of the meetings, the talks and the silent companionship he had shared with Elrond, the only times he had felt at ease, felt at peace.

"Thranduil! Focus!", someone shouted.

It took Thranduil a moment to realize that the voice had been in his head only but it had the effect the speaker had intended. Thranduil clung to it like a castaway clung to a drifting piece of wood, because this voice had been the only thing that had kept him sane over these last years.

"Elrond…"

"Thranduil! You have lost yourself again! Follow my voice! Stay with me!"

And this time he obeyed. He stayed with Elrond, followed his voice and when he opened his eyes again he was back in the here and now, lying on the ground at the foot of Erebor.

"Focus on your breathing. Don't let your memories take over again!"

He did as he was told. He focused on his shallow breathing caused by his panic and forced himself to take a deep breath. Pain shot through his ribcage, forcing him to return to the shallow breathing. And then it hit him for the first time: something heavy was lying above him, pinning him down to the ground, making it so hard for him to breath, crushing him. The thing that had hit him must have buried him. He turned his head, trying to see what that thing was, but since he was lying on his right side he could barely see what was above him. He cursed his blind eye and tried to turn his body at least a little bit to the left. Out of the corner of his right eye he saw dark grey fur and it dawned on him that he must have been buried beneath a warg… a dead warg.

"Focus on your current problems!"

"I am focusing on my current problem, Peredhel! I'm buried under a dead warg during an ongoing battle! I'm… trapped."

He was lying literally on a silver platter, being an easy victim to every orc passing by. Maybe this was how it should be… Maybe this was his destiny after all, dying here. Maybe destiny was finally catching up on him. Maybe he should indeed have stayed with his fallen warriors on the battle plain of Dagorlad, maybe he should have died with them and just maybe his nightmares showed him what should have been…

"Thranduil Oropherion, don't you dare giving up right now!"

Thranduil sighed.

"Elrond, maybe –"

"Don't you dare dying there! Not after surviving Dagorlad! Move!"

Thranduil didn't move. He saw no reason for doing so, for fighting anymore. He was tired, so tired of all this.

"Thranduil, think of Legolas! Think of your son! You of all people know how it feels to lose your own father on the battlefield!"

"He won't mind losing his father, I saw to it. He won't break down like I have."

"Are you sure? I saw his future. I saw him broken, in despair, ridden by guilt, crying over your dead body!"

No…

He had seen to it that the feelings Legolas had for him had weakened over the centuries even though it had hurt him deeply to drive away the only person he still loved. But in doing so Legolas wouldn't have to face the same grief over losing his father like he himself had had to endure. And losing his father he would, either because he lost his sanity or because he was killed in one of the battles that were to come, brought upon them by the rising shadows.

Legolas wouldn't break, wouldn't end like his father. He would rise above and be a better king, a better leader than his father ever was.

"You are lying, Peredhel!"

"Thranduil, he never stopped loving you!", the Peredhel said quietly. "He never will!"

No!

This couldn't be true! He had put so much effort in forcing Legolas away. But… but what if the Peredhel was right? He couldn't risk it, couldn't risk Legolas' wellbeing. He wouldn't let the same happen to Legolas that had happened to him.

Without losing another second he began to move, trying to wriggle himself out from beneath the warg, ignoring the stinging pain in his ribcage.

"Make use of the resources you have, however limited they are!"

"Peredhel…", he ground out frustrated, _… stop stating the obvious_.

Sometimes the Peredhel could be really annoying. But the sudden surge of frustration gave him the strength to pull his left arm out from beneath the warg. Simultaneously he managed to turn fully on his back before the warg lay again on him with its full weight, crushing his already broken ribs and pressing the air out of his lungs once more. He felt bile rising in his throat as a reaction to the increasing pain in his chest and the lack of oxygen. The world around him spun for the blink of a second, alarming him, making him aware of how bad in shape he really was. In a desperate attempt to free himself he tried to push the warg away using his now free hand but it was to no avail.

"In need of help, Elvenking?"

Thranduil halted the attempt upon hearing the snarling voice from above the warg. He didn't need to look up to know that an orc had uttered these words. He had heard these miserable creatures talk often enough. Slowly he raised his head and indeed an orc was leaning on the warg looking down on him and smiling an evil grin, showing his rotten and yellowish teeth. Thranduil didn't lose any time. He knew, he would be dead any second, if he didn't find something to defend himself, anything… He looked around frantically and indeed, not far from his left shoulder lay an abandoned sword.

"Don't you think of it, Elvenking!" the orc hissed, jumping fully on the warg, sending a painful sting through Thranduils chest.

The orc crawled over the broad shoulder of the warg descending to the warg's spine, bringing his face close to Thranduil's. The sickening smell of the creature making his bile rise in his throat again.

"If I bring the beautiful head of yours to my master, he will surely give me a big reward, Elvenking."

The orc reached out with his hand and Thranduil desperately wanted to back away, wanted to avoid the contact with this filthy creature but he hadn't any chance. He felt the hand of the orc in his hair, felt it grabbing his diadem and ripping it out of his hair. Thranduil barely felt the pain the ripping out of some strands of his hair caused because it was negligible compared to the burning pain in his chest. The orc moved away a little, focusing on the diadem in his hand, turning and twisting it and Thranduil decided to use the state of distraction of the orc to his advantage, bringing his hand nearer to where he remembered the abandoned sword had lain, all the while watching the orc in front of him. Suddenly the eyes of the orc moved from the diadem to Thranduil's arm and with a quick movement the orc drove his blade through it, pinning it to the ground. Thranduil couldn't avoid a cry of pain leaving his mouth as he felt the blade driving through his flesh.

"I told you not to think of it, Elvenking!", the orc hissed, spattering his foul saliva on Thranduil's face.

He put the diadem on his head, grinning, while he drew a second blade.

"Now, I'm the king and you are going to die!"

He raised the blade ready to strike and Thranduil's thoughts were racing. He couldn't die, he couldn't leave Legolas alone, not yet!

_Make use of the resources you have!_

What resources did he have? He had nothing, nothing but himself and a dark and twisted mind… himself…

"I wouldn't do that!", he exclaimed, halting the orc, preventing the orc from burying his blade in his chest.

The orc looked at him doubtfully.

"And why wouldn't you, you scum?"

Thranduil swallowed for he couldn't believe what he was going to do.

"Because I'm like you!"

I'm like you. My soul is as dark and lost as yours and my face is so very similar to yours. Haven't you been created by breeding tortured and mutilated Elves? I am a tortured and mutilated Elf, mutilated by the Great Serpents of the North, tortured by what they had taken from him, the beauty and health that made an Elf an Elf, tortured by memories of past losses and atrocities he had had to witness, by the dull pain in his cheek, consumed by constant self-hatred for what he allowed to happen to his kin and himself, for his incompetence and his psychic weakness. But maybe just this once, his inner and outer ugliness would save his life. Maybe just this once he himself could rise above his self-hatred.

And with that he let go of the illusion that covered his missing cheek and his blind eye. He could see the bewilderment in the orc's eyes as the renowned beauty of the elves vanished from his face making room for the ugliness that was so similar to the disfigured features of these creatures. But in contrast to the orc, Thranduil didn't hesitate, but seized the opportunity. With all the strength he had left, he jerked his left arm free, grabbed the sword and with one swift move beheaded the orc before the miserable creature knew what was happening to him. He watched the head of the orc, crowned with his diadem, rolling down to the ground, away from him and out of his sight. With a sigh he let his head slump to the ground, feeling how exhaustion finally took over.

"Ada!"

Thranduil heard the scream and opened his eyes, only to look directly into his son's blue ones. Legolas was standing on the warg looking down on him, holding his two blades in his hands. They were stained with blood, as were Legolas' clothes, but since his clothes were still intact, he assumed it was the blood of their enemies. He was relieved beyond words. His son was unharmed, at least physically. And then he saw the colour drain from his son's face.

"Ada…", Legolas whispered horror-stricken, letting go of his blades then he jerked his head around.

"I need help! I need a healer!", he screamed.

He jumped down, landing next to his father, falling to his knees.

"Ada… what did they do to you?!"

Thranduil could see the despair in his son's eyes as he slowly reached out to touch his face but never making contact. And then it dawned on him. He never renewed the illusion after letting it down to irritate the orc. He was lying here, bloodied and buried beneath a warg with half of his face missing. What a sickening sight he must be and yet Legolas was sitting beside him, concerned for his wellbeing although he most definitely didn't deserve it, after pushing his son away as far as possible. He could see it in Legolas' eyes that he wasn't repelled by the ugliness of his father. He was afraid of touching him because he feared he would cause further harm. This wasn't going as planned. Legolas shouldn't still have such strong feelings for him, he shouldn't be kneeling beside him, fearing to lose his father. He had thought that by now he had erased all the love a son could feel for his father. He had thought he had been as distant and indifferent as possible, that by now Legolas would be more or less indifferent to losing his father. That Legolas would be able to kill him in case his dark side took over, in case he became insane, became a danger to others. Obviously he had failed miserably and he wanted to be angry at himself but instead it made him proud. Legolas had been able to preserve his love for his father even though he had tried nearly everything to destroy it. Legolas' believe in him had been stronger than his attempts of ruining their relationship. Legolas had been stronger than him. And worst of all, the Peredhel had been right.

"Ada, don't worry! A healer is coming!"

Legolas jumped to his feet again, looking around, looking for the ordered healer.

"Come quickly!", he screamed again, the fear of losing his father evident in his voice.

When he fell back on his knees his eyes wandered from his father's face to the warg and back again.

"Everything is going to be fine, ada!"

"Legolas…" He had to tell him.

"Don't father… save your strength! Everything is going to be fine!"

Thranduil knew that Legolas was saying this more to reassure himself than him. He could feel the panic rising in his son, the panic of losing him here on the battlefield, like he himself had lost his own father.

"Legolas!"

He grabbed his son's arm, forcing him to look at him.

"Legolas, it's an old injury!"

With that he again created an illusion, covering up the scared half of his face, presenting Legolas the face he had known all his life. Legolas looked at him disbelievingly.

"It's an old injury I have had for centuries…"

"Ada… I don't understand… You never told me… Why did yo–"

He was interrupted by a group of elves running around the warg, coming to help their king. And while Legolas backed away, making room for the healer his eyes never left the eyes of his father. And it felt like for the first time in his life he was able to see the true self of his father, the King of the Woodland Realm.


	3. At ease

The sun was shining brightly and Thranduil was glad that he had traded his long robes for one of his tunics, which ended just above his ankles, making it easier to wander around in contrast to the long robes, which were far more suitable for the fresh forest air of Mirkwood, not for the warm sun that shone into the valley. Thranduil followed one of the stony paths leading away from the main buildings of Imladris. It was one of the lesser steep paths taking him upwards away from the more crowded places. He had walked this path many times since he had been able to walk the lesser steep paths. Up till now he could still feel a faint sting in his chest from time to time, when he asked too much of his convalescing body. At first Elrond had only allowed him to walk the even paths but when he had been feeling better he had strayed farer from the main buildings and one day he had ended up on the very same path he was taking now. He followed the path until the path began to run alongside one of the small brooks belonging to the Bruinen. There he left the path crossing the brook with one big step and wandered over a small meadow leading into a even smaller group of trees. The trees stood on a ledge from which you could look over a big part of the valley and over the main part of the Last Homely House. Thranduil walked over to one of the bigger trees and sat down at the root, leaning against the hard trunk. He missed the trees of his home, while on the other hand he enjoyed the open architecture of Imladris, which stood in high contrast to the closed and oppressive style of his kingdom. While this oppressiveness had always supported him and his decisions, had helped him to stay sane, he was now happy to stay under the vastness of the blue sky, something that had regularly scared him, and still would if it weren't for Vilya protecting this valley with its magic and thus constantly him. He had always been afraid of losing himself in this never ending vastness, feeling exposed, unprotected, while in Mirkwood the oppressive structure had kept his inner being together like a thick outer shell.

The midday sun was warm on his skin and he closed his eyes, listening to the babble of the nearby brook and the song of a thrush, when suddenly he heard the sound of a blowing horn not far away and when he opened his eyes he saw a group of horsemen riding over the bridge that crossed the Bruinen. They wore the colours of Imladris. Obviously the Peredhel had returned from the orc hunt. But to his surprise he could also see the colours of Lothlorien among them. He hadn't known that a delegation had been expected. But Elrond would have told him if it also concerned him. Obviously it didn't and since he wasn't the ruler of this realm, this was fine with him.

Thranduil woke because the thrush had suddenly stopped singing, alarming him to the new arrival. He opened his eyes and looked to his right, where the path lay. Elrond smiled as their eyes met. He had changed his clothes. The brown armor of Imladris he had most definitely worn on the orc hunt was gone. Instead he wore a dark blue tunic that had a similar cut to his own one, dark blue trousers and black leather boots. But while he could never wear such dark colours they went perfectly well with the dark brown hair of the Peredhel, which was as always skillfully plaited and crowned with a golden diadem. He in contrast never wore any plaits for he preferred his long hair flowing freely down his back. And instead of wearing his crown, which he never wore outside of his kingdom, he wore the silver diadem Elrond had given to him upon hearing that he had lost his in battle. It had been crafted especially for him, fitting perfectly. It was a masterpiece of elven craftsmanship and he was sure that Elrond had motivated his smiths to do their very best on the piece since he knew about Thranduil's weakness for beautifully crafted jewelry. An obsession Thranduil had attained after losing half of his face, after losing his own beauty.

"I'm sorry I woke you.", he heard Elrond say, disrupting his thoughts and Thranduil was thankful for that, for his thoughts had again wandered to a place he would rather avoid. So instead of concentrating on his memories, he concentrated on the Peredhel.

"You and your kin don't know how to walk through nature without disturbing it. You scared away the thrush, which was singing in one of the trees, making me aware of your presence.", he said but he smiled, thus taking the edge off his criticism.

"I beg your pardon, Elvenking."

Elrond bowed exaggeratedly, showing Thranduil that he wasn't in the least bit offended. Thranduil responded with a nod of his head.

"I gladly accept your apology, Lord of Imladris."

He smiled for he really enjoyed these little banters they frequently had since his arrival in Imladris. For the first time in ages he felt sufficiently at ease to banter with someone and he was certain that he also owed this to Vilya and the constant influence it had on him in this valley.

"How are you feeling today?", the Peredhel asked, bringing Thranduil once more back to reality, like he so often did.

"Not well enough for my own liking but well enough to yours I assume."

Elrond nodded, understanding perfectly well. The Elvenking was an impatient patient, while Elrond was very satisfied with the Elvenking's recovery, for his injuries had been grave ones.

"No chest pains?"

Thranduil shook his head and quickly changed the topic for he hated to talk about his wretched health, no matter if mental or physical.

"How was your hunt?"

Elrond accepted the change of topic, for he knew that Thranduil had long passed the critical states of his physical injuries. As long as he didn't do something really stupid, the Elvenking should be fine.

Elrond crossed the meadow and stopped right next to Thranduil and like him he turned to look over the valley. He sighed. Normally Thranduil didn't like people standing too close to him, like he didn't like people being emotionally too close to him. He averted his eyes from the valley below him and watched the Peredhel. He seemed to be lost in thought, focused on the horizon and Thranduil wondered what the Peredhel saw in the distance. Was he hearing the call of the Undying Lands like so many other Elves? Like so many except for him. He had never heard the call of the sea. And he was certain, he never would. And in contrast to him, somebody was waiting for the Peredhel on the other side of the sea, a beloved person. For him there was nobody waiting. Even if his wife had already left the Halls of Mandos she would definitely not be waiting for him, for the man she couldn't even touch without being disgusted, after he had trusted her and showed her his real self. Just one of the last pieces of the puzzle that had led to his downfall and another reason why he let nobody too close anymore. But with the Peredhel it was different. He didn't feel the usual uneasiness he normally felt when people stood too close to him, around him he felt at ease, comfortable. Maybe because the Peredhel was like a calm anchor in this fast moving and cruel world. Or just because he was the bearer of Vilya.

"We found the horde of orcs that lingered near the Bruinen. It was a short fight and there were no casualties on our side."

Thranduil turned his head back to the valley.

"So you were successful."

Elrond shifted slightly beside him.

"Successful in eliminating this one horde? We were indeed. But it bothers me that more and more orc hordes are trying to cross the Bruinen."

Thranduil understood perfectly well. He too had to face the increasing numbers of orcs and spiders entering his kingdom. He too had to fight this endless war.

"But let's not talk about this topic any longer for it saddens my heart. I received word from my sons this morning. Obviously and to my relief your kingdom still exists even though they have been there for the past few months. The message included a letter for you from your son."

Thranduil took the letter Elrond handed him and looked at it for a moment. He couldn't believe how their relationship had changed just in a few months. After the battle at the foot of Erebor, while the healers had tended to his injuries, Legolas had questioned him mercilessly. First he had been reluctant but Legolas' constant inquiries combined with the pain caused by his crushed torso had led to his surrender. He had told Legolas about his injury and the misery that had ensued. And Legolas had listened without interrupting him or judging him. And when his condition didn't change after one week, it had been Legolas, who had proposed to send him to Imladris to recover under the care of Elrond, who had helped him through worse. He had been reluctant to leave his kingdom but Legolas had ensured him that he was perfectly capable of leading the kingdom for a few months and that it would be the perfect chance for a change of scenery, something that might take his mind off his dark and painful memories. He had consented for he had felt his body weakening and his dark thoughts strengthening day by day. Legolas had accompanied him on his trip to Imladris and after assessing Thranduil's injuries and calculating that it might take months for him to recover, Elrond had sent his sons to the Woodland Realm together with Legolas, so that they could assist the young prince in time of need. For that Thranduil had been thankful for he had feared that his son might have underestimated the task of ruling the Woodland Realm. But having the experienced twins of Elrond with him as support, he was certain Legolas would succeed. And the frequent letters from his son told him he had been right. Legolas was thankful for the support.

"I thought your sons would ensure the endurance of my kingdom during my absence, not increase the risk of its ruin.", he teased the Peredhel.

"Why do you think did I send them away to your kingdom? I feared for my own realm.", the Peredhel replied in jest.

"I see. Maybe I should reconsider the alliance with your realm, Lord Elrond."

"I beg you not to do that! It took far too long to forge this alliance."

Thranduil knew that the Peredhel was right. It had taken them far too long but he also knew that it had been mainly his fault. He had never needed anyone. He had been fine in his isolated kingdom, at least fine enough to go on with his life until the pain had become too much to bear. Only then had he left the isolation. And to tell the truth, until now it hadn't been as bad as he had thought it would be. Quite the contrary, he had gained an ally, a confidant, something he hadn't had for centuries. And even though it was exhausting to control his effervescent temper from time to time in order to not drive away Elrond, something he didn't have to do for quite some time because there simply had been none to drive away, he began to see the positive side of having someone to trust in.

"I'm going to leave you alone, so you can read the letter undisturbed."

Elrond was about to turn away but Thranduil stopped him.

"There is no need for that. Since you already told me the most important part about my kingdom, there is no need to read the letter right now. Stay with me, Peredhel, at least for a few moments."

Elrond smiled.

"As you wish, Elvenking.", he said and sat down beside Thranduil, looking over the peaceful valley.

Neither of them spoke for quite some time and Thranduil just enjoyed the silence he shared with the Peredhel.

And when Lindir arrived, calling for Elrond, telling him that there were some matters that required the attendance of the Lord of Imladris, Thranduil felt a tinge of disappointment that the Peredhel had to leave.

When dusk began to fall and Thranduil just rose to walk back down into the valley, he saw Lindir coming towards him from the valley below. Lindir bowed his head to greet him and Thranduil waited patiently for Lindir to tell him, why he had come to him.

"King Thranduil, Master Elrond sends me to invite you to a meeting."

"A meeting? What about?"

The Peredhel hadn't mentioned any meeting he should participate in while they had sat together. This was news to him. He had planned on going to the library and having dinner afterwards.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you what kind of meeting it is."

"What do you mean by you can't tell me what kind of meeting it is?"

He narrowed his eyes to slits, fixating the other elf, trying to figure out what he was playing at. But when Lindir began to squirm under his scrutiny and lowered his eyes it dawned on him that Lindir wasn't intentionally keeping secrets from him but he indeed didn't know what meeting it was.

"A secret meeting, then. Who is going to attend?"

Again Lindir didn't answer but Thranduil already suspected that it had something to do with the delegation from Lothlorien, which had arrived this morning. Thranduil sighed.

"I see… Do you at least know where this ominous meeting is being held or do I have to search all of Imladris.", he asked nonchalantly.

Since finding out that Elrond's right hand could be disturbed so easily he enjoyed teasing Lindir far too much. It took Lindir a few seconds to regain his equilibrium.

"Does this mean you wish to attend?"

Thranduil couldn't deny that this secret meeting had piqued his curiosity.

"Yes, lead the way."

* * *

I kind of see the diadem Elrond gave to Thranduil not as a gift from Elrond to Thranduil but more like a gift from one realm to another. I think Elrond thought it to be a useful and suitable gift to officially show that he is glad about the forging of the alliance between both realms. Since the "friendship" they shared, before Thranduil came officially to Imladris to seek out Elrond's healing powers, was kind of secretive.


	4. Limits

So I messed a little with Tolkiens's timeline and I stole a few lines from the White Council meeting of first hobbit movie… just if you are wondering where you have already heard Saruman talking such nonsense. ^^

So I think now Thranduil is going to be more and more ooc.

* * *

Elrond was the last person to enter the gazebo overlooking Imladris. Gandalf was just taking the seat opposite to Saruman at the table in the middle of the gazebo, while Galadriel was looking over the valley below them, standing with her back to the others being present. Celeborn was standing to the side facing inwards, bowing slightly when his eyes met Elrond's. Elrond returned the greeting and greeted Gandalf and Saruman the same way. He decided not to sit down and went over to one of the columns.

"I think we should begin now.", Saruman suddenly said.

Elrond wanted to object but Galadriel beat him to it.

"I think we are not yet complete.", she said quietly still not facing them.

Three heads turned simultaneously to Elrond. Celeborn raised a questioning brow, while Gandalf and Saruman just gave him questioning looks. Elrond sighed and looked at Galadriel who had turned slightly giving him a warm smile then his look wandered back to the Istari.

"At the moment I have a guest here in Imladris and I invited him to participate in this meeting. I think, he will be a great asset."

He just hoped that it would work out, knowing Thranduil and his rather short-lived temper, especially since Thranduil was used to acting alone, his kingdom being isolated for so long a time.

"This is not some public meeting everyone can participate in. I would have preferred to know about this addition beforehand.", Saruman said with a slightly annoyed undertone.

And again, before Elrond could say anything, Galadriel had already done so.

"I am looking forward to seeing him again. We haven't met for quite a long time."

She smiled at him, her eyes glimmering in the sun and he knew what she was doing. She was showing him that she supported his decision to invite Thranduil and it kind of relieved him to know that she was on his side in this matter.

"I sent for him. He will be there any minute."

Saruman sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Well then.", he said but not without giving Elrond another annoyed look.

And Elrond already felt like returning to his library.

"_Do not let him bother you. You did the right thing in inviting him. Things are going to change now."_, she told him.

He just hoped she was right.

"_Have faith in him and his headstrong, arrogant character!"_

"_This character of his is what is bothering me the most!"_

"_This character of his is what makes him so different from all of us, what makes him the perfect asset, Elrond."_

Elrond wasn't entirely convinced but he didn't have the time to contemplate it any further.

"Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm!", Celeborn suddenly exclaimed, looking past Elrond down the path that led to the gazebo.

Elrond turned and together they watched Thranduil ascend the slope leading to the gazebo.

When Thranduil entered the gazebo he saw five people looking at him.

"King Thranduil." Celeborn addressed him first, bowing his head slightly.

His wife Lady Galadriel stood by his side and greeted Thranduil in the same manner. But in contrast to her husband she awarded him with a smile. Thranduil didn't bow his head. In Middle-earth they ranked below him. The same applied to both of the Istari who were present. They might be Maiar in Valinor, a land that meant nothing to him, but here in Middle-earth they were just two wizards, ranking far below him. He would only ever bow to king. Gandalf inclined his head.

"King Thranduil."

But when Thranduil looked at Saruman the White, the wizard did neither bow to him nor welcome him at all.

"Finally we can begin." , was all he said and Thranduil despised him from that moment on.

He owed him respect for he was the one that outranked him, he was the only king present! Just as he wanted to open his mouth to say something he saw out of the corner of his eye that Elrond made a step towards him, halting him. Elrond had invited him to this meeting, so technically he was his responsibility. He closed his mouth. His first action wouldn't be to put the Peredhel to shame, to make him regret inviting him, not when he owed the Peredhel so much. He took a deep breath and decided to be at his best behavior at least as long as possible. He turned away from the Istari and went over to one of the columns, leaning against it, watching the meeting unfold in front of him.

Saruman folded his hands on the table top.

"So Gandalf tell me, are you happy now that the dragon and Thorin Oakenshield are dead?"

The White Istar focused on the Gandalf, who averted his eyes, looking at his hands that lay on the table top.

"I really don't know why we are meeting again after so short a time."

So they must have talked about the quest of the dwarves, Thranduil thought.

"I told you, I wasn't in favor. I knew it would not end well."

"But the Kingdom under the Mountain has been restored.", Celeborn interjected.

"This could prove quite useful in the future, even though it was dearly bought."

Thranduil closed his eyes, trying to fight the surfacing memories of the dying men, dwarves and elves.

"Useful for what purpose?"

_Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you. _Thranduil still saw the orc kneeling in front of him, laughing at him and his son. He had to agree with Celeborn. The restored kingdom under the mountain would indeed be useful when Sauron returned.

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you."

_My master serves the One._ Thranduil's blood ran cold.

"So first it is Smaug that troubles you, now it is Dol Guldur. What is it next time, Gandalf?"

Gandalf looked around before focusing on Sarum again.

"Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs and wargs have fought against us at the foot of Erebor."

"More and more orcs are crossing the Bruinen. Just this morning we had to fight off another horde of orcs. The third this month", Elrond added and Thranduil remembered the many times the Peredhel had left Imladris right after breakfast since he himself had been in Imladris in order to fight orcs.

"I don't see what this has anything to do with Dol Guldur."

Gandalf shook his head helplessly.

"A sickness lies over the Greenwood.", he tried another approach and Thranduil perked up his ears upon hearing his home being mentioned.

"The woodsmen living there now call it 'Mirkwood'"

Five heads turned to him, obviously waiting for his confirmation or contradiction.

"Hordes of orcs and the children of Ungoliant are infesting the Greenwood in such high numbers that my men can barely eradicate them and their nests. They are coming from Dol Guldur."

Saruman sighed.

"So let us examine what we know. Single Orc packs have dared to cross the Bruinen. Last time you showed me a dagger from a bygone age that has been found. And according to Radagast and some woodsmen a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. And spiders are infesting the Greenwood. In fact that is not so very much, after all."

Thranduil couldn't believe his ears. The White Istar had to be joking. How could he not see, what all of them saw? How could he be so blind and not notice what was happening around him? That something was happening around him, something evil.

"Six thousand orcs and five hundred wargs fought against us at the foot of Erebor. If single hordes of orcs, a Morgul blade, a necromancer and giant spiders are not so very much at all, what is an organized army to you then?"

"They were after Thorin Oakenshield and the treasure of Erebor."

Thranduil pushed himself off the column he had been leaning on and turned towards the exit of the gazebo. It took him every ounce of self-control he had not to shout at the White Istar. He decided to leave before his temper got the better of him.

"Where are you going?", Elrond asked.

Thranduil stopped and turned to face them.

"I'm going to do something that is not such a waste of time like this meeting. Maybe I'm going to count the trees on both sides of the Bruinen in this valley so that I can compare their numbers in order to determine on which side the soil is more fertile."

"King Thranduil, this Council discusses serious threats to Middle-earth."

"Really? All I see are four people that care for Middle-earth and one person that is blind to the latest events that point to a revival of evil."

"There are no events that point to a revival of evil, Elvenking!"

Eru knew he had tried to reign in his temper but he couldn't anymore, not when he had to deal with such hopeless stubbornness.

"Just in case the message didn't reach you behind the thick walls of Isengard. My kin together with dwarfs and men were slain, fighting a battle against orcs and wargs at the foot of Erebor only a few months ago. If this isn't a serious threat, what is?"

"It was an unnecessary battle caused by a few greed-driven dwarfs. They willingly risked the established peace!"

Thranduil couldn't control his fury anymore. With a swift movement he brought his fists on the table and his face near to the face of the White Istar, simultaneously letting down the illusion, which covered his face. He could see the appall in the Istar's face, when he beheld the grave injury, fueling the anger and hatred Thranduil felt for the Istar even more.

"There is no such peace, you fool!", he spat. "Maybe for you in your isolated tower but not for us, not in the real world."

He looked into the Istar's eyes, looking for understanding but there was none, instead he saw that his eyes were still fixed on his missing cheek.

"Tell me, Saruman the White, what are you waiting for? For Sauron to turn up in full armor to reclaim what was once his?"

"There is no evidence that he has returned.", the Istar replied calmly.

Thranduil straightened again and a sharp sting drove through his chest. He knew that his previous movements had been too rushed.

"There never is, but someday there will be and then it might be too late. Sauron is no fool. In his supposed weakened state wouldn't it be utterly unwise to leave evidence? He will leave evidence as soon as he is ready to face the free people of Middle-earth again."

He could feel the difficulty his body had taking in enough air and he knew he had pushed too far beyond the boundaries of his weakened body.

"As far as I see, all of us here are ready to risk the lives of our people in order to save their future. So tell me Curunir, why are you so reluctant, you who has no people to send into battle, no people to lose to death? What is at stake for you besides losing your own life? Is it just you being so afraid of dying, putting your life above everyone else's? Or is there something you aren't telling us?"

Again he was looking into the eyes of the Istar, which were now looking straightly back at him and he could see the anger rising in them as well. The Istar wasn't used to someone openly question his views, to someone stepping on his toes, he fathomed. But he couldn't care less. There was so much more at stake than just the temper of one single Istar. He took another breath and when he saw the world spinning for a blink of a second, he knew he had to leave. He wouldn't risk showing his weakened state to the mightiest people of Middle-earth. He faced the others. Celeborn and Gandalf were looking at him in astonishment, while Galadriel was smiling at him. Elrond in contrast had come a few steps towards him, looking quite concerned. He must have felt his uneasiness.

"If you would excuse me, I don't see any point in me partaking any longer."

He turned and started to walk away, recreating the illusion covering his injured face.

"_Do you need any help?"_, he heard Elrond asking in his head.

"_I'm fine. I just need some rest."_, he answered in the same way and without looking back, he left the gazebo.

Thranduil wandered through the halls of Imladris, his destination being the library. He was deep in thought, thinking that it might be time to return to his people. He was far from being fully recovered but maybe it was for the best to leave Imladris and secure his kingdom against what was to come. The unwillingness to take action he had seen in the White Istar's eyes had concerned him deeply. This White Council was a farce and his guts were telling him to take matters in his own hands… again. They didn't have to fear for their peoples' lives for either they had no people or they possessed a ring of power. He was positive about the fact that one of the elven rings resided in Lothlorien, that Galadriel was the bearer of at least one of the other two elven rings. He knew the story about Celebrimbor favoring Galadriel. Most certainly he had given one of the rings to her in order to win her over, maybe even both rings. He should leave as soon as possible. He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He was standing in the hallway dedicated to the Last Alliance, a hallway he had constantly avoided, since he had seen it for the first time. This first time he had literally fled the hallway without looking back for a second time. It had been too much for him to bear and it was still, but his feet wouldn't obey his command. His eyes were fixated on the wall painting depicting Isildur wielding the hilt-shard of Narsil, fighting off Sauron. He took a step forward, his feet sinking into the muddy ground, making his every step an additional exertion. Still fixated on the wall painting he took another step forward, feeling the weight of his armor pressing down on his tired shoulders.

He looked behind him, seeing some of his warriors in fights with orcs, some came to the help of others. One of his men came running to him, saying something to him but he didn't hear a word he was saying, he just heard the sound of an arrow passing by his ear, the movement of air its passing twirled his hair, and the sickening sound of the arrow finding its target, the forehead of his warrior. The warrior stared at him, his eyes wide open in shock and realization that he would die and Thranduil could see how the fear of dying in his eyes was slowly replaced by death itself, as the warrior fell to the ground, where his dead comrades already lay. Thranduil whirled around but the hissing sound he heard already told him what was to come. The impact was a strong one, throwing him to the ground while pain exploded in his left shoulder. He grabbed the thick black arrow and pulled it out of his body, screaming in pain as he pulled out some pieces of his own flesh along with it. He tried to get to his feet again, pushing himself off the ground but his good hand, supporting most of his weight, sank into the ground. When he turned his head to look for a more suitable place to place his hand, he saw that his hand hadn't sunk into the ground but into the torn open ribcage of one of his men, squashing what was left of his innards. He jolted backwards, fighting the sudden feeling of nausea rising in his throat, as he watched pieces of crushed innards falling from his hand drop by drop. He gagged and looked away but just saw elf after elf around him massacred. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall, desperation overwhelming his heart. Why? Why did the Valar let this happen? Why? Sauron was a Maia! They had taught him, given him the knowledge he had used against Middle-earth! Where were they now? Watching from across the sea out of harm's way as elf after elf was slain because of their lapses!

"We are dying here!", he screamed in desperation.

But nobody ever answered. And it was there on the battle plain of Dagorlad that he swore he would rather kill himself than ever demonstrate respect for neither Valar nor Maiar again if he ever came across one.

"Trolls!", he heard someone scream and jerked around.

A horde of trolls came towards what was left of his army. Some of his warriors remembered to form a deep formation, welcoming the trolls with their arrows, trying to wreck as much havoc as possible as long as there were still at some distance, while others unsheathed their swords and mindlessly ran towards the trolls and to their deaths.

"No!", he screamed.

"Come back!" But it was to no avail.

"Come back…", he whispered, as the first of his men were crushed by the trolls.

One of the trolls got hold of one of his man, lifting him from the ground and with both hands the troll tore him in two, while his screams of pain rang in Thranduil's ears. The troll threw away the lower part of the body but kept the upper part of the still screaming warrior to use it like a morning star against the other elves surrounding him, attacking him with arrows and swords alike. The troll howled in agony as one arrow hit him in his eye and he continued to lash out at the elven warriors to his feet, scattering the innards of the elven warrior in his hand over the battle plain. Thranduil fought the nausea back and coldness enveloped his heart like a shell made of cold steel. He took his sword and ran towards the troll. He wouldn't let his people die, while he lived on. If they wouldn't survive then he would die with them!

A horde of orcs came forth behind the troll and Thranduil ran directly towards them, hoping, begging that one arrow would pierce his heart or one sword would slice open his throat so that he no longer had to watch his people being slaughtered, so that all of this horror would finally end, at least for him. He drove his sword through one orc after another not noticing the lacerations he obtained while doing so, for he was far too focused to even care. When no further orc came forth, Thranduil used the opportunity to take a few deep breaths. He was so tired, his hands were shaking and sweat ran down his temples. His legs were so weak, he feared they would collapse beneath him. He leaned on his sword. He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment, he just wanted to sleep for a moment… just for a small moment he wanted peace… he was so tired. Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream resounded over the battle field, jolting him out of his half-sleep. And before he had a chance to even look for the source of the scream, he saw a huge shadow gliding over the countless corpses spread over the battlefield. Thranduil's heart froze as he beheld the silhouette of the shadow. He lost his sword as he recoiled from where shadow was now circling. He didn't get far before he tripped over something most likely another corpse or part of a dead body and fell to the ground. Panic rose in him, clenching his heart, as he crawled away as fast as possible. His heart hammered in his chest as another bloodcurdling scream sounded not too far away. He didn't dare to look back, as he heard the shadow landing not far from him. No! His heart stopped for a second, as silence fell over the battle plain and only the shuffling of leathery wings and heavy breathing could be heard. No! He felt the dragon's fire eat away his face, felt flesh melting away from his bones, felt the pain exploding in his cheek, traveling through the rest of his body until his whole body felt like being aflame, burning, screaming distracted with pain until he had passed out. No! He tried to reign in the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Not again… it wouldn't happen again! Frantically he looked around searching for any kind of weapon. He saw a hilt poking out of a dead orc lying next to him. Another scream sounded behind him and with the last ounce of courage he had left I him, he took the hilt, pulled the sword out of the orc while turning around and pushing himself to his feet, facing the monster. He stared directly into the throat of the black shadow while his brain slowly registered that the sword he had drawn had been broken and he only wielded the hilt-shard. The beast let out one of his bloodcurdling screams and attacked him. A blink of a second before the monster would have buried his teeth in his flesh, a bright ray of light broke out of the beast. So bright, that it hurt his eyes and he had to cover them with his hand. And to his confusion the scenario in front of him slowly dissolved until everything around him was just bright light and nothing of Dagorlad was left.

When the light finally began to fade and his surroundings became clearer once more, they were totally different to where he had just been. Elegant wood carvings appeared in the corners of his eyes.

"King Thranduil."

The voice was commanding but soft and helped him to focus on the bright figure standing directly in front of him. He blinked a few times and the brightness lessened gradually until he could identify Galadriel as the figure standing right in front of him. He felt her hand on his chest, which was rising and falling quickly and when he looked down at her hand, he saw a brightly shining ring on her finger… the Ring of Adamant.

"King Thranduil.", she said again and he focused on her face.

She was smiling at him, a soft smile.

"Remember where you are."

He tried to remember but he was too confused. He had been at Dagorlad not a few seconds ago. He had fought against orcs and trolls, had seen how his people had been slain. What was she doing here? Here… He looked around. He was standing in a wide and open hallway with elegant woodcarvings everywhere. It seemed slightly familiar but he couldn't quite place it yet. But when he saw the many Noldarin elves looking at him with wide eyes it began to dawn on him. He was in Imladris, where he was recovering from a serious injury, over three thousand years after the Battle of the Last Alliance. Slowly he raised his right hand which had wielded the hilt-shard he had pulled out of the orc. It was still there, being cold to his touch. But it wasn't just any hilt-shard… It was the hilt-shard of Narsil, which had been on display in this very same hallway. Hi gaze wandered to where the shards normally lay… they were gone, lying scattered on the floor. He had lost control… again. He let go of Narsil and it hit the floor with a loud clanking sound. He had lost himself so utterly and completely… He numbly backed away from Galadriel, all the while looking at his now empty hand with wide eyes. When he hit a nearby wall with his back, he slumped down to the floor and only then did he look up at Galadriel again.

"I'm losing myself.", he stated bleakly.

All the while Galadriel had watched him silently but suddenly she sprang into action.

"Leave us alone!", she commanded and all the elves surrounding them obeyed.

A few seconds later they were alone.

"I have touched you with Nenya, so your memories won't bother you for some days.", she said, kneeling down in front of him, all the while smiling at him warmly.

"But they will resurface like they always do."

"Isn't that what memories normally do, the bad and the good ones?"

"I know.", he ground out.

He was no elfling anymore. But he had so much more bad memories than good ones.

"Do not despair, Elvenking. I can feel that you have been frequently touched by Elrond."

"Vilya eases my pain."

Galadriel laughed.

"I wasn't talking about Vilya. The power of the Elven Rings is limited. Compassion and love aren't."

"And yet he wasn't able to heal your daughter, his beloved wife."

"All is lost, when you fight alone. Elrond fought, but my daughter wanted to leave Middle-earth behind. It was her decision, not his."

She sighed and Thranduil was certain that for the blink of a second he had seen weariness in her eyes.

"He has fought alone for such a long time. I'm glad he again found someone to fight with."

She was looking at him and he was sure she was talking about him.

"You are wrong. I'm not one to fight with. There is nothing I could give him save for darkness and madness. This is a one-sided arrangement."

"Now you are wrong, Elvenking. Sometimes companionship of someone who went through the same traumatic events, who understands perfectly well what standing at the edge of despair and black desperation is like, is all that is needed and companionship I see between you two, even though you are not aware of it."

"There is nothing of this desperation left in the Peredhel."

"Maybe not during the day but when the night rises and the shadows reside in every corner, do you know if the Peredhel is able to face his own Dagorlad without fear?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"I have looked into many eyes of warriors returning from the horrors of Sauron's battlefields. Many of these eyes were as dead as the eyes of their comrades that had left for the Halls of Mandos. Others were like yours: dead at first sight but upon taking a closer look a small flame still burning in the background could be seen. There are others like you, even though the young might never grasp what all of you went through, what horrors were burned into your memories, what you suffered to secure their future. But when I look into your eyes, into Elrond's eyes, into the eyes of my own husband I can see that you haven't left every piece of you on the battle plains. All of you brought back an essential piece of you, your fighting spirit, your will not to succumb to the madness that was your sole companion on the battlefield. I don't see any weakness in you, all I can see is your strength, your will to go on in spite of knowing what evil, what darkness lurks in this world, your will to face every new day. You are still here, you are still fighting, you endure the pain, you have not yet sailed."

"And I never will."

And again Galadriel just smiled at him like she knew something he didn't.

"When the time comes it will be your decision alone."

"Thranduil!"

Galadriel turned around and Thranduil could see Elrond running towards him, Celeborn right behind him. Galadriel backed away making room for the Peredhel, who stopped right in front of him, where Thranduil could clearly see the fear in his eyes. Fear for him… Elrond gaze dropped to the ground, where the hilt-shard of Narsil still lay, then the Peredhel's eyes were on him again. Elrond stepped forward, bending down to Thranduil.

"Did you hurt yourself?", Elrond asked while his hands were already searching his tunic for cuts.

"Elrond…"

When the Peredhel didn't stop Thranduil put his hands atop Elrond's hands, halting them. When their eyes met Thranduil just shook his head.

"I'm fine. It was just a hallucination."

Upon hearing this Elrond slumped down in front of him, obviously relieved beyond words.

"Nan belain, you gave us quite a scare, Elvenking.", Celeborn said also relieved but Thranduil had only eyes for the Peredhel in front of him.

_Sometimes companionship of someone who went through the same traumatic events, who understands perfectly well what standing at the edge of despair and black desperation is like, is all that is needed and companionship I see between you two. _Had he been so blind? Why had he never seen that this was no one-sided arrangement? Because he had never thought that he with his dark and twisted soul could have a positive influence on someone ever again. The Peredhel had proven him wrong…again.

* * *

One chapter and maybe an epilogue left! ^^

I decided to mess around a little with the timeline, because I wanted Thranduil to participate in one of the White Council meetings. According to Tolkien the White Council meet and drove Sauron out of Dol Guldur right before the Battle of Five Armies. Here in story I decided go with Peter Jackson's version of the Council meeting in Imladris during Gandalf's stay in Imladris but they never came to a conclusion and thus met for a second time right after Smaug's death to again discuss Dol Guldur and the events of the Battle of Five Armies. So Thranduil, being in Imladris to recover from his injuries could actually partake in the meeting. I'm kind of uncertain if Thranduil ever knew about those meetings and the White Council for he was never mentioned as taking part in them, so I decided that he never heard of it but could have imagined it and thus wasn't too surprised to see that there actually was something like a Council of the mightiest in Middle-earth.

Also I'm wondering why Galadriel never addressed the matter Saruman openly, when she already distrusted him. I mean, well he was the head of the Council but that doesn't mean that you cannot speak against him, especially since she is not some unknown elven girl passing by. I really liked her portrayal in the first Hobbit movie, for you could clearly see that she was already beginning to question Saruman ' s motives by the looks she was giving him but I was kind of freaking out how she never said anything in the movie. So I decided to bring in Thranduil. After seeing Lee Pace's portrayal of Thranduil, I was certain that Thranduil wouldn't have her composure if he had the feeling that Saruman had other plans. Basically I think Thanduil can be quite an asshole and a pain in the ass (which is why I like him so much because it makes him so different from the other elves) because of his arrogant attitude and his indifference for what others might think of him. He is proud and not accountable to anyone for he managed to reign for quite a long time without the help of others, and especially without meddling in the affairs of others, thus he is not part of the "network". This makes him kind of ideal to question the intentions of someone like Saruman without thinking about any consequences because he simply has to fear none. He can just go back to Mirkwood and go on with his isolated life like he did before (in theory^^). I also think, that he wouldn't participate in another meeting after seeing how ineffective the Council is (due to Saruman), more likely he would consider it a waste of his time.

But since it has been years since I read all the Tolkien books and delved deeper into the material, I'm not that familiar with the matter anymore, so I'm sorry, if I overlooked basic explanations of why Galadriel acted like she acted. Basically I dropped back to a level, where it is common knowledge that the Lord of the Rings is about a ring…^^ So please excuse me if I am talking total nonsense.

Aaaand I decided to include Celeborn, simply because I like him… I mean, come on, everyone who can face the powerful Galadriel on a daily base for millennia without feeling utterly useless deserves a medal. Just joking. I like the idea that he has a calming influence on her and keeps her solidly grounded.

I imagined Thranduil mixing up real experiences at Dagorlad (e.g. all the deaths he witnessed) with other memories (e.g. the dragon, which actually was no dragon here but one of the fellbeasts of the Nazgul, since I didn't found any information on dragons actually fighting in the Battle of the Last Alliance) and stuff his mind just invented (e.g. the scene with the fellbeast and the hilt-shard). Basically what I want to say is that in this story Thranduil never faced one of the fellbeasts personally at Dagorlad but might have seen them but in this flashback his mind mixed together his actual experiences at Dagorlad with traumatic experiences prior to the Last Alliance (I decided that he obtained the injury in his face before the Last Alliance when Oropher was still around, since I didn't found any information about the serpent wars Lee Pace was talking about; did they just make them up for the movies?), but since his mind remembered that there were no dragons at Dagorlad it replaced the dragon (one of Thranduil's greatest fears) with a fellbeast and then integrated the shards of Narsil, which were lying nearby just before his hallucination started. Makes sense? Ah, it is difficult to explain… ^^

Basically his mind is playing nasty tricks with him and Thranduil is having difficulties to distinguish between past and present, reality and fantasy if a trigger is present.

So I wouldn't say, that Thranduil's condition worsened, I just wanted to show that depending on how strong the trigger is, his strength of his hallucinations vary. With weak triggers (e.g. the orc talking about the One) his flashbacks are not that strong, but when there are stronger triggers (e.g. seeing the painting of Sauron and Isildur at Dagorlad, since he might have seen Sauron at Dagorlad in person or since the painting painfully reminded him of the unnecessary deaths of his people since Isildur never destroyed the One Ring, when he could have done so and thus ending Sauron's reign forever) his flashbacks are so strong that his mind even mixes reality (the shards of Narsil) with his memories.

Since Nenya's powers are presumably preservation, protection and concealment from evil, I thought that Galadriel touching Thranduil with Nenya would result in him being protected from his bad memories at least temporally. But in contrast to coming to Elrond frequently he wouldn't go to her for further help since it already took all his courage to go to Elrond. He wouldn't seek out and confide in a second person. Also seeking the help of Nenya would be the easy way out since the roots of his traumata aren't really tackled in that way, since it only protects from evil and thus bringing only temporal relief. While Vilya on the contrary is said to have the power to heal and thus might help him to really recover from his traumata, healing the psychic and physical wounds he has.

And last but not least I wish you all a happy new year! Have fun and don't do anything stupid! ^^


	5. Mellon

I'm sorry it took me a little while to upload but there are two reasons for delay (and why I think this is a weak chapter). I will explain them at the end of the chapter.

For now just enjoy the chapter.

Again I borrowed some lines from the movie (Thranduil talking about the nature of evil).

* * *

While the sun just rose over the mountain tops, shining into the valley, bathing the Last Homely House in a bright and warm light, Thranduil was sitting with crossed legs on one of the benches in the library from which he could look out into the gardens of Imladris. The library was still empty for it was still early and breakfast was yet to come. He preferred the loneliness and thus had intentionally gone to the library in the early hours of the day. During the day the library was far too crowded by avid Noldorin elves for his taste. He had been alone for too long a time and thus couldn't bear many people at once. It was just too tedious. Instead he enjoyed the time when he had the library to himself.

He just turned another page, when he heard the door to the library being opened and closed again. He sighed and just hoped that the other person would leave him alone. Just as he wanted to continue reading he recognized Elrond out of the corner of his eyes. Relief washed over him, for as much as he despised the presence of other elves while reading, he rather enjoyed the company of the Peredhel. The Peredhel was carrying a pile of books and didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, instead he was walking past the shelves looking for the empty places where the books he had taken belonged. Thranduil watched him for a few moments without making his presence known, but when the Peredhel turned his back on him, Thranduil closed his book forcefully. He saw the Peredhel flinch slightly.

"Garo aur vaer, Peredhel.", he said, amusement evident in his voice.

Only then did Elrond slowly turn to face him. Elrond smirked.

"Garo aur vaer, Elvenking. I see you are up early."

"You know I prefer the loneliness. And the library tends to be terribly full between breakfast and dinner."

Elrond laughed.

"Three people can hardly be called a terribly full library. But I understand what you mean. I too prefer an empty library."

He turned back to the shelf and put back another book.

"You never told me to what conclusion the Council finally came, regarding Dol Guldur."

Elrond stopped and put the pile of books on a table, giving Thranduil his undivided attention.

"Thanks to your performance Saruman relented. We are going to attack Dol Guldur in a few days time."

Thranduil was relieved. At least losing his temper hadn't been pointless and he hadn't put Elrond to shame.

"Thank you, mellon nin."

Thranduil looked away and tried to ignore the mellon nin. What did the Peredhel see in him, that it was worth calling him a friend? He hadn't done anything to deserve it, even though Galadriel obviously thought different about this matter. But she didn't know him. She didn't know what really dwelled in the dark corners of his being. If anything the Peredhel deserved to be called 'friend'. Elrond had helped him even though their relationship had been more than strained after the Last Alliance. Elrond was checking on him every time he felt his despair growing. Elrond was the one watching over him.

"Who is 'we'?", he asked while examining the texture of the cover of the book, he was still holding.

"Mithrandir, Curunir, Galadriel and I."

So the ringbearers and the Istari… Thranduil returned his gaze to Elrond.

"Do the combined forces of Imladris and Lothlorien have enough combat strength to face what resides in Dol Guldur. I don't think that Saruman the White has an army to command or an army he would willingly risk to lose for this... I am certain he would call it… unnecessary adventure."

"There won't be any armies."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes to slits, contemplating what he had just heard.

"No armies… So Celeborn is no ringbearer.", Thranduil mused.

"What makes you think that?", the Peredhel asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Obviously he wasn't keen on talking about any of the ringbearers of the three elven rings of power, which didn't stop Thranduil to go on.

"You didn't name him as being part of the attack on Dol Guldur, while Galadriel and you are part of it. I assume that's because she is the bearer of Nenya and you are the bearer of Vilya. Also he is not able to use any magic like the Istari, which is the reason why they are part of the attack. So he being not included means he is not the bearer of Narya. And since there aren't going to be any armies, he, even though being an experienced warrior, would be useless during the attack. This is also why you didn't ask me to join. I have no ring of power and what little magic I can use…"

He pointed to his left cheek.

"… is of no help to you."

Elrond frowned.

"If you are implying that I must think you a weak person, than you are wrong, Elvenking."

"I might not be a weak person but I surely am a weak king, who didn't have the strength to overcome the traumatic events of his past, who rather isolated his realm, because of what had been, than forging an alliance with Imladris and Lothlorien, which might have saved it from destruction by what is to come."

Elrond shook his head.

"Just because you are king doesn't mean you have to be stronger than everybody who ranks below you. That's not what makes a king a good king. You did what you thought was best for your people and what was within your power. We chose different ways to preserve our realms but the results are the same. But now we have to stand together in order to successfully fight the growing shadow."

Thranduil looked out into the gardens, his gaze unfocused.

"Such is the nature of evil. Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads. A shadow that grows in the dark, a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was, so will it always be. In time all foul things come forth."

Elrond peered at him.

"Say, what are you reading again?"

Thranduil raised the hand, in which he held the book.

"Tales of Doriath. Even I get melancholic from time to time."

"I'm quite sure there never was something like this written in there."

Thranduil smiled at the Peredhel. Elrond knew his library well, so it seemed.

"Your memory serves you well, Peredhel. There was nothing like that written in this book. That is what the past has written on my body with every further wound I obtained by arrows, maces, knives, swords and dragon fire fighting for the shadow."

He sighed.

"But we are wandering from the subject."

He put the book on a table standing next to the bench.

"Since two of the three ringbearers of the elven rings were present at the meeting, it might be that either the third one couldn't participate for whatever reasons or was indeed present or Narya is already lost. If the first reason was true I am sure the bearer would participate in the attack on Dol Guldur, but you only mentioned those who were also present at the meeting. So I'm ruling this possibility out. I also don't think that Narya has been lost, which leaves us with the last possibility, that the bearer of Narya was indeed present during the meeting. Now there are two options. Either Galadriel is the bearer of two rings or you are. Or one of the Istari is the bearer of Narya."

Elrond had listened carefully and simultaneously tried not to show any emotion in order to not give away the whereabouts of Narya.

"You know I can't tell you. You already know too much. To keep the whereabouts of the three elven rings a secret is of utmost importance."

If Sauron or his henchmen would ever catch you, torture you… he didn't dare to go on thinking about this. Not only because the outcome of this scenario would be catastrophic but also because just thinking of another person he held dear to his heart experiencing the same as Celebrian nauseated him. He never wanted to see light hair, be it silver or golden, stained with red blood ever again. Just then did it occur to him, what he had just thought. Another person dear to his heart… Thranduil had become his friend, his confidant and yet… he felt there was something more, lurking in his heart, where he couldn't quite grasp it. He looked at the Elvenking, a ray of light playing on his golden hair. He was sitting on the bench, relaxed but even in this relaxed state he gave off the pride of a king mixed with a notch of arrogance that came along with being the last Elvenking in Middle-earth and the knowledge of your own radiant beauty. And a beauty he was… Elrond realized where his thoughts were heading and his heart sank. When… when had his feelings taken this turn?

"Peredhel?"

Elrond found his way back to reality upon hearing the Elvenking's demanding voice. Thranduil was watching him closely and Elrond understood that he must have missed something.

"What were you saying?"

"You looked quite shocked. Are you feeling well?"

"I just realized something.", Elrond said with a wave of his hand. Something he had to analyze later, when Thranduil wasn't anywhere near.

"What was it you were saying?"

"I know that it the whereabouts of the elven rings must be kept a secret, but you do realize that building flourishing elven realms isn't very subtle? If Sauron indeed rises again I am sure he already knows where to look for at least two of them. The only well hidden ring is Narya."

"I know. But subtlety has never been one of my qualities.", Elrond joked, trying to lighten the mood and to distract his own mind, but Thranduil didn't take the bait and neither did his own mind.

"Say, Peredhel, what would happen to you if Sauron would successfully regain the One Ring?"

Elrond's gaze dropped to the floor.

"I don't know.", he said quietly.

Then he looked up again and directly into Thranduils eyes.

"Maybe I will fall into darkness, like the Nine."

Thranduil couldn't see any fear in the Peredhel's eyes while talking about falling into the darkness, something Thranduil himself feared the most.

"You aren't afraid of falling into the darkness.", Thranduil stated.

"No I'm not. It is the price I have to pay for wielding Vilya. And I knew it all along."

"Then why did you wield it, to begin with. Couldn't you have kept Imladris without it?"

Elrond shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe… I don't know. But keeping Imladris wasn't the only thing I wanted and did use Vilya for. With Vilya I was able to help so many people, people I couldn't have saved without it, people like you, who were closer to darkness than to light. And for this I'm willing to pay the price. There is only one thing that bothers me. I don't have a fallback strategy if I should indeed fall into darkness."

"What kind of fallback strategy?"

"Celeborn once confided in me that he and Galadriel have an agreement. Should she ever succumb to darkness, either by Sauron regaining the One Ring or by her getting her hands on the One Ring first, Celeborn is going to kill her."

Ah, love that ran so deep you would even kill the one you love in order to avoid that your beloved had to face a fate much worse than death. He knew it from hearsay for he himself had never had such a relationship with his wife. After showing her his face and after her display of utter disgust he never talked to her about his fear of losing himself to the darkness within him and his fear of losing control. He would have never asked her to kill him if that happened, because he had then known her limited loyalty towards him. She would have run as soon as she had had the possibility, too afraid of facing his dark side, too afraid to even look at him at all. And Legolas? He could have never asked Legolas to kill him. He had hoped, Legolas would be able to do so on his own account, if he himself had succumbed to the darkness within him. That had been the reason why he had driven Legolas away. His fallback strategy had failed. But he perfectly understood Elrond's line of thought. Like him, he was sure that Elrond would never ask such a favor from any of his children, but neither from friends or anyone at all. Elrond was too concerned for the wellbeing of others. He would never ask anyone to bear the blame of killing. And yet he also knew how scaring it could be when you knew there would be no one who would stop you if one day the dark side of you took over. He had been there and he still was.

"I will kill you."

There he had said it, without giving it another thought for there was no need to do so. Elrond looked at him angrily.

"Stop talking such nonsense, Thranduil. I don't want you to kill me."

Even though it sounded alluring, Elu knew the Elvenking had already a big load to carry on his shoulders.

"You don't have to think you owe me, because you don't."

"I might owe you but that is not why I offer you my help. I know the feeling of hurting the ones I care for. I fought against it and I won. And I know how to kill. Let me put this knowledge to good use, at least for once in my life."

Thranduil looked him dead in the eyes and Elrond realized something else… He saw something in the eyes of the Elvenking… something he was sure not many had ever witnessed when faced by the King of the Woodland Realm… sympathy and understanding.

"You care that much about me?"

"I care that much about you, mellon nin."

* * *

Garo aur vaer – Good morning/day

The idea of Celeborn killing Galadriel if she succumbs to the darkness is not mine. A few years ago I read a fanfiction where Celeborn was hiding in a tree or bush while Galadriel showed Frodo her mirror. Celeborn is ready to kill her if she would take the One Ring. The short story is "He'd rather die" by Larian Elensar. You can find it here on this web page. I liked the idea very much, so I decided to include it here.

As for the two reasons for the delay:  
So first university started again last week (christmas holiday is over T.T) and the courses don't leave any time for fanfiction writing. I have to do it in my breaks.^^

Second I found out that someone, who read my story wrote his/her own story taking the basic ideas of my first chapter. Actually that itself is not the problem but this person didn't give any credit, which really made me angry and sad. Perhaps, I'm being oversensitive... But just saying: "well, I read this story xyz and it was so crappy that I had to write my own version" or "I liked that story xzy but I had another idea" would have been fine. Anyway it kind of ruined my week and I stopped writing for a few days. Thus I lost track of what I actually wanted to write. But I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so I decided to upload it today.

So basically the story is finished for all the non-shippers here. In this last chapter I just wanted to show that Thranduil opens up to Elrond.

For the shippers there is going to be an epilogue (might be two parts), althought I already know there will be no intercourse or something like that. If you are looking for that you might go to another section of this web page *cough*. This is not because I don't like such stories but just because I think they both need more time to get there. It might happen soooooooooooomewhere in the future but that is just soooooooo much ahead, because I generally think elves are more looking for intellectual relationships. So the physical part is not the dominant part in their relationships.

Just my opinion.^^

And please give me some time... university and stuff... you know...^^


	6. Epilogue part I

"If you would excuse me."

Elrond got to his feet and turned away from the campfire he had shared with Celeborn, Galadriel and his twins. He didn't wait for their response but walked away to an area that lay in the darkness of the night. He felt their gazes on his back, but he didn't care. He had a far more pressing matter on his mind. He reached the area and knew that here he would be undisturbed. He found a nice patch of grass and sat down, before opening his tired fea and reaching out for Mirkwood, quietly calling for its king. It took a while until he felt the fea of Thranduil. A shiver ran down his spine like it always did, when his fea connected with the fea of the King of the Woodland Realm, because the Elvenking was one of the few elves who possessed a fea that felt cold to the touch. In contrast most other fear gave away a feeling of warmth, like Celeborn's or the fear of his children. Connecting with them always felt like entering a room with a burning open fire in the fire place. And connecting with Galadriel felt like standing in the bright sun of an early morning. With Thranduil it felt like diving into a clear mountain stream.

But even though their fear were connected Thranduil kept silent, and Elrond feared his powers were too weak to properly reach the Mirkwood from where he was now.

"Thranduil?", he asked tentatively.

"I'm here, mellon nin."

But when he didn't say anything further, Elrond knew that Thranduil was giving him the time and space he needed to start talking about what was on his mind for Thranduil knew where he had been.

"We left Minas Tirith this afternoon." Elrond swallowed. "I left her behind."

"No, you didn't!", Thranduil objected vehemently.

"It has been her decision to make, like it had been yours! She is living her own life, like she wanted to, like you wanted to."

"Then why does it feel so wrong? Why do I feel like riding back and forcing her to come back with me?"

"Because she is your beloved daughter and you are a caring father."

Tears appeared in Elrond's eyes as he thought about what lay in his daughter's future.

"Thranduil, I can't go through that again. I have seen my brother die… I can't watch my own daughter's demise. I have brought her to this world with my own hands… I can't watch her leaving it."

The Elvenking said nothing and Elrond fathomed that he knew what he was going to say.

"I'm sailing."

Thranduil closed his eyes. He had feared this moment all along. His mind had been telling him for quite a while now that the Peredhel would want to sail sooner or later, now that the shadow had been defeated and Vilya's power had vanished. Thranduil had banned these thoughts to the back of his mind, hadn't wanted to think about the day the Peredhel would leave Middle-earth, hadn't wanted to think about the day he would lose his only friend to the Valar, the day he would be alone again. He just wanted to tell Elrond that the High King of the Reunited Kingdom would most likely reign for one hundred years, not longer, and would then decide to leave this world. And then Arwen would most likely decide to join him in death. Just one hundred years, a mere blink in the life of an elf, then everything would be over and Elrond could start to heal in Middle-earth, could see his grandchildren grow up. But he would never say it out loud, not to Elrond, his friend, for he knew it was heartless and egoistic. And he knew, while for him the defeat of Sauron marked a new beginning, a chance to rebuild flourishing elven realms and enjoy Middle-earth without being afraid of a shadow lurking in the dark, for Elrond as well as Galadriel, who had always focused their efforts on fighting evil, their mission to protect the free people of Middle-earth had ended with the victory over Sauron. He swallowed hard.

"When?"

"I don't know. But Galadriel and I, we both want to leave soon. There are still some arrangements that need to be made. A few months maybe."

So soon?!

"So we will not meet again?"

Thranduil felt a cold hand grabbing his heart. Elrond didn't answer immediately and thus Thranduil already knew the answer. He would never see the Peredhel again, never again. His heart sank. Their ways would part… forever.

"I don't think, there is any time left."

There was a short pause.

"You could always accompany us."

Thranduil laughed a bitter laugh.

"I would never set one foot on the shores of Valinor. Like you would never stay in Middle-earth.", he snapped.

He couldn't stop himself, for his heart hurt too much. But that Elrond would never know. No one would ever know.

"Thranduil.", Elrond said softly but Thranduil wouldn't listen, wouldn't let the Peredhel soothe him.

"Do as you wish, Peredhel. It is your decision. Now, if you would excuse me."

Before Elrond could say anything, Thranduil was already gone and Elrond again alone in the dark. He slumped down, exhausted, physically and mentally.

Thranduil slammed his fist on a wooden pillar. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling such despair, despair that ran far too deep than the despair of just losing a friend… a very dear friend? He leaned against the pillar, resting his forehead on the cool wood.

But he had felt he couldn't deny that the Peredhel had weakened considerably. He had seen it during each visit and he felt it during every conversation they had had after Sauron's defeat. First he had tried to ignore it, and then when it hadn't been possible to ignore it anymore, he had told himself that Elrond would recover sooner or later. And he waited, but all waiting had been in vain. Elrond never recovered. And Thranduil's concern for the Peredhel grew with every day the Peredhel's condition worsened. And he also knew that there might not be any hope of recovery for the Peredhel if he stayed in Middle-earth, even though his heart didn't want to believe in this. But his mind knew better. And as a friend he should listen to what his mind said, not what his heart wanted. He wanted the Peredhel to live a life without pain and sorrow, something he would never have. Something he would never wish upon his friend. He knew the right thing to do was to let the Peredhel go. And yet it was such a hard thing to do.

Elrond went back to the campfire, which was already dying out. Most of the others were already asleep, only single silhouettes could still be seen in front of some of the campfires. So he went to his own sleeping bag and lay down. He had known that it wouldn't be easy to tell the Elvenking, that he was going to leave Middle-earth. They had become close friends, maybe too close at least when it came to himself.

Elrond sighed. His head hurt and he was not happy with how his talk with Thranduil had ended. He had known that his decision would negatively affect the Elvenking and he had foreseen the end of the conversation. Nonetheless he always hated it when a conversation between them ended on bad terms, for he was worried about Thranduil, worried that in his anger the Elvenking would do something inconsiderate. Damn his short-tempered character!

Just when he had decided to give sleep a chance he felt a familiar presence calling out to him. Relieved he opened his fea to the presence. "I'm sorry. My temper got the better of me.", Thranduil stated without preamble. Elrond couldn't hold back a smile. "That is nothing new to me. I know your character quite well, Elvenking."

I know, Peredhel. You know me too well. You alone know of the madness that dwells within me.

"After reigning in my temper I came to the conclusion that indeed you are right. You should leave this land for I can easily feel your exhaustion. Wielding Vilya has taking its toll on your body. The time and environment you need to recover, you probably won't find anywhere in Middle-earth, and even less so as the lord of an Elven Realm."

Elrond felt a sting in his heart. He knew of the weakened state of his body and even of his mind. And he knew the only place where he could recover was Valinor. But being told to his face, that Thranduil really wanted him to leave for whatever reasons, somehow hurt deep inside.

"Peredhel?"

"Yes?"

"You let your mind wander again."

Elrond sighed, for it had happened quite often during the last few conversations with Thranduil that he had missed parts of what Thranduil had been saying. Sometimes it really was because his mind was too tired to focus but sometimes it was just because he was trying to analyze the state of the relationship between him and the Elvenking.

"I guess I'm tired."

At least it was only a partial lie, since he was also tired beyond words.

"Then you should rest. We can still talk tomorrow."

"You might be right."

Elrond knew that Thranduil would most likely be smiling right now.

"Losto vae, mellon nin."

"Losto, vae, mellon nin.", Elrond replied and closed his eyes.

After that day they talked frequently, conversing about everything and nothing. But they avoided the topic of Elrond sailing soon as much as they could. And while he felt his body and mind getting weaker with every passing day, felt centuries of wielding a ring of power finally catching up with him, he occasionally let something slip that he hoped might encourage Thranduil to reconsider coming with him to the Undying Lands. And while his heart always hoped that Thranduil would finally relent, his mind was telling him to stop that nonsense and to respect the Elvenking's decision. And before long the last day of his stay in Middle-earth had arrived.

It was early afternoon, when he felt the presence of the Elvenking and when he opened his fea to his, he felt that familiar wave of cold, washing over his own fea. It would be the last time he would feel it here in Middle-earth. And maybe he would never again feel it in his whole life, so he savored this moment, tried to remember every second on his mind, so that he could recall it later at any moment. Like the many days before they talked about everything and nothing, but when the sun began to set he knew it was time to say goodbye… for good. He swallowed for he didn't know how to begin telling Thranduil, that this was the end.

"Thranduil…", he simply began. "I think it is time. Boe i 'waen."

Thranduil didn't respond. And when the silence lasted too long for his own liking, he tried again.

"Thranduil?"

"I heard you, Peredhel.", Thranduil snapped, but Elrond knew that he didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to press you."

Again silence ensued but then finally Thranduil spoke.

"Thank you for saving me, guren glassui.

"You know, you don't have to thank me. I'm a healer. Healing is what I do. And you were no exception."

"But our relationship was strained."

"That is your opinion. I think we had merely lost sight of each other.", Elrond replied, smiling.

Thranduil knew that the Peredhel was smiling, while saying this but he also knew that for him this didn't apply. For him it had been far more than merely losing sight of each other. He had loathed the High King and his herald from deep within for what had happened to his father and kin on the battle field of Dagorlad. But now in retrospect it seemed to him like this had been ages ago. And when he now did some soul-searching there was no hate left at least for the herald. So much had changed… and now all of it would end.

"Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham."

Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes.

"You know, we won't... Goheno nin."

They would never see each other again. This parting was forever.

"I still have hope…"

"Don't… for it's in vain."

"Thranduil…"

_Don't… Don't to this, Elrond. It's hard enough as it is. But I won't change my mind!_ He had to end this conversation… now!

"Novaer, mellon nin.", he simply said.

Elrond swallowed hard. So this was it, the last time he had heard the Elvenking's voice.

"Novaer, mellon nin."

As soon as their fear had parted, Thranduil felt the emptiness creep into his heart, taking residence there for a long time.

He sighed, allowed himself one short moment of weakness before he pulled himself back together again, becoming the cold and distant king he used to be. He wouldn't despair just because he would never see the Peredhel again, because he would be alone again. He had been alone without any friends or confidants so many years, he could barely count them. But he had endured and he still would. Even though now with Vilya's power gone, his past might catch up with him again, again causing nightmares and hallucinations. The shadows might have left Middle-earth, but they hadn't left his heart. But he had also survived them before he had sought out the Peredhel's help, barely so, but nonetheless he had. And even if now he wouldn't be able to cope, if he would indeed succumbed to darkness and madness. Now it wasn't important anymore to survive because Legolas would then be king in a stable and peaceful time. He wouldn't have to face the evil he himself had had to face as the King of an Elven Realm.

Except for that, his situation was basically the same as it had been before he had gone to the Peredhel to seek help. But deep inside he didn't feel like before. He had changed during the few years during which his path and the Peredhel's had crossed. The Peredhel had changed him. In the past this would have made him angry. He hated being influenced by others especially if he didn't notice it until it was too late. But he couldn't be angry at the Peredhel. His heart forbade it.

And his heart also forbade him to let the Peredhel sail still believing he would follow him someday. He knew that the Peredhel would continue to do so. He knew him to well, the trustful Peredhel. He would waste his energy waiting for him. Energy he needed to recover his body and soul. His gaze dropped on a pile of parchments, that lay on a nearby table and he suddenly knew what he had to do. A last act of friendship… He would crush the Peredhel's hopes forever.

Elrond watched as Galadriel took the hands of her husband into her own, looking down at their joined hands. Celeborn pulled her towards him, pressing her against himself. He knew how Celeborn must be feeling for years ago he had found himself in the very same position. He had been standing here on this very shore and had watched his heart disappear beyond the horizon. And he now could imagine how his wife must have felt then and how Galadriel must feel right now, for he too left someone in Middle-earth, someone who was very dear to him. Since the day he had told Thranduil that he would sail, he had known deep in his heart that Thranduil wouldn't follow him. And why should he? He didn't even know if Thranduil had felt what was between them, that there was something more than just plain friendship between them. The hate and distrust Thranduil felt towards Valinor and some of its inhabitants obviously were stronger than the yearning for his dead wife and definitely stronger than whatever it was, that was between them. And as he thought about all this, for the first time it really dawned on him, that the odds of seeing Thranduil ever again were against him. It tore his heart apart. In the short time he had come to know Thranduil, he had grown to care for the arrogant King of the Woodland Realm.

Elrond turned to his sons on last time. He had to take his leave now. He couldn't bear to see them any longer, when he knew he was leaving any moment now, for it increased the pain in his heart. It was now or never. He hugged them both for one last time, pulling them close like he had so many times before. Then abruptly he let go.

"Watch over your sister for me."

They nodded dutifully. He took one last deep breath.

"We will follow you. We promise."

He nodded in understanding.

"I'm waiting."

And with that he turned and walked towards the ship that was softly rolling on the waves. When he stopped right before the plank he slowly put one foot on it. Half of him had already left Middle-earth. But just as his second foot wanted to follow the first one, he heard Elladan call for him.

"Ada, wait! Look!"

Elladan was pointing towards the gate leading to the Grey Havens. There was a horseman galloping through it at high speed. Elrond's heart stopped when he beheld the colors of the elves of the Woodland Realm. Maybe Thranduil had changed his mind, maybe... The horseman pulled his horse to a halt in front of Elladan and Elrohir. It wasn't Thranduil. This elf had the brown hair of a Silvan elf not the golden hair of the King of the Woodland Realm and he definitely hadn't his pale blue eyes.

"I have a message for Elrond, Lord of Imladris from my king Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."

It was obvious that he was quite out of breath as was his horse. He must have ridden as fast as possible for a long time in order to make it to the Grey Havens in time. He had been successful but barely so. Elrohir took the reins, while the messenger dismounted and came over to Elrond. He handed him a parchment, sealed with Thranduil's insignia. With trembling hands Elrond opened the parchment and began to read.

_I hope it didn't raise any hope in your heart only to be crushed again when you beheld that the horseman wasn't me. My decision remains the same. I haven't changed my mind. It is for the best that our ways part now and forever, the best for you… That is why I will never follow you, because I want to shelter you from me._

_You shouldn't get to close to me, not when my inside is such a dark and cold place. Although you always thought that there is hope for me and my lost soul, you don't know all the demons I hide in the shadows of my soul and there is no place for you to hide from the darkness that dwells within me, if you stay close to me, if you stay in this forsaken land, now that Vilya's power has vanished. Sail and you will be sheltered and protected from the pain of your past and from me. There are beloved people waiting for you on the shores beyond the sea. Go to them! There is no one waiting for me, so I stay here, where I can't destroy the small light of hope I could see shining bright in your eyes, despite the horrors and losses you have had to experience. For I am sure I would destroy it. I would take you down with me into the darkness that is my fate. I know you don't believe in fate. But I know my future and I can't escape it. It is woven in my soul. I don't carry this light of hope you carry. Nobody is waiting for me._

_So farewell, mellon nin._

When he had finished the letter Elrond closed his eyes and sighed, his heart heavy in his chest. Thranduil was wrong. He didn't need protection, least of all protection against the Elvenking. There might be darkness within Thranduil's soul but it was the same darkness he harboured within himself. He didn't need any protection, he needed someone who understood him, who understood what he went through, as soon as the lights went out and the night and with it darkness reigned. Someone who understood what horrors befell him as soon as he closed his eyes in order to sleep. Someone who accepted the shadows that now resided in his soul, accepted him for what he was, scarred and lost. Thranduil understood what it meant to lose oneself on the battle field that was one's own soul. And they had both found comfort in each other' presence, had forged a bond of friendship out of pain and misery. Together they had managed to transform something bad into something good, into something strong and this something Elrond didn't want to… no… mustn't lose. But they would be worlds apart forever, if he didn't try everything possible to change Thranduil's mind. He had only today, only these last minutes before he left Middle-earth for good. And he would use them. He looked around, searching for a certain person. There he was, standing with his nephew, looking a little lost.

"Bilbo, would you be so kind and lend me one of your parchments and some ink. I'm quite sure you brought some with you to write about your next adventure."

Bilbo smiled at him.

"You know me far too well, Lord Elrond."

And with trembling hands and with the help of Frodo he pulled a parchment and some writing supply out of his sack.

"I'm deeply indebted to you, Bilbo Baggins."

"Pah..."

Bilbo just waved him off and Elrond took the offered things and found a balustrade where he could write on.

Two words… that was all he needed.

He gave the parchment to the messenger.

"Give this to your king."

The messenger bowed to him and took the parchment Elrond held out to him. When the messenger turned around hastily nearly running to his horse, Elrond called after him.

"It's not urgent. Let your horse and yourself rest for awhile."

The messenger slowed down immediately and uttered an exhausted thank you, before he took the reins of his horse from Elrohir and left the Grey Havens on foot. Elrond looked at his sons for the last time in Middle-earth and then embarked.

* * *

Boe i 'waen = I must go

guren glassui = Thank you from my heart

Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham = My heart shall weep until I see you again

Goheno nin = Forgive me

Novaer = farewell

At least I hope that's what the elvish sentences and words I used mean. The problem with foreign languages you don't speak is that you have to trust the people on the internet, that the phrases indeed mean, what they say it means. So either these phrases are correct or Elrond and Thranduil are talking about that red carpet they always wanted to buy...^^

Thranduil's letter was inspired by the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. I really like that song and it kind of matched their situation quite well. So I used some lines directly, others I changed slightly.


	7. Epilogue part II

Sorry for the delay... But after this week I have more time left for writing!^^

* * *

"My Lord!"

Thranduil turned to see Siriann rushing towards him. His heart sank, when he saw Siriann holding a parchment in his hand. He had waited too long. His letter hadn't reached the Peredhel anymore. He had been too late. When Siriann had reached him, he bowed and held out the parchment to him.

"I reached Lord Elrond just in time. He gave me this for you, my Lord."

Thranduil's gaze dropped to the parchment that was offered to him. With a quick movement he snatched the parchment from Siriann and waved him off without saying a word. With trembling hands he gazed at the small parchment he was now holding. There was no seal and suddenly Thranduil feared that the Peredhel might have written something compromising and that Siriann might have read it. He quickly unfolded the parchment, hoping that the Peredhel had been discreet. And then he saw Elrond's neat handwriting. Two words… Disbelievingly Thranduil turned the parchment around. But the rest of the parchment was empty. He turned the parchment again and faced the two words, reading them for the first time.

_I am…_

Elrond was standing at the railing watching the crowd that stood on the pier, waiting for them to finally dock the boat. He searched the crowd for the familiar silver hair, anxious to see her and the condition she was in. First he couldn't find her in the crowd but then his gaze was caught by two radiant golden haired elves standing in the first row, The resemblance was unmistakable and thus he knew he was looking at King Finarfin, father of Galadriel and his son Finrod Felagund. And next to them stood Eärwen, mother of Galadriel, her hand holding the hand of Celebrian, his wife. Their eyes locked and she smiled at him that smile he knew so well, but hadn't seen in centuries. And he knew that this was a good sign for she had never smiled after the assault. And when they finally docked and left the boat he saw Galadriel falling into the arms of her father. And he saw Celebrian running towards him, laughing, and he awaited her, his beloved, with his arms wide open.

"Elrond!"

She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, pressing herself against him, clinging to him like a castaway to a piece of driftwood. Slowly he put his own arms around her small body and buried his face in the curve of her neck, taking in her smell… He noticed that she had gained weight and relief washed over his heart, for when she had sailed she had been frail. The way she had jumped into his arms had showed him, that she had regained her strength and her love of life. And his heart leaped for joy. But as much as he was glad that she had recovered from the ordeal, he also realized that being in her arms felt just utterly wrong. And it finally dawned on him what his heart had known and his mind had ignored all along. The heart that had wept, when Celebrian had left Middle-earth, the heart that had been broken the day she had sailed, the heart that had yearned for her, that had begged him then to follow her to Valinor… this very heart didn't belong to Celebrian anymore… it was now part of the gems that belonged to the King of the Woodland Realm.

She let go of him, put him at arm's length to look into his eyes and her smile slowly died. He knew why. He was too shocked to even try to hide it. She could see it in his eyes, could see that she had lost his heart somewhere along the way. She put her right hand on his cheek, caressing him softly. Her smile returned but it was a sad one.

"Nana, warned me, when I told her that I intended to sail. She told me that I might lose you, that I might lose your heart. But I didn't listen to her. I just wanted this misery I was in to end. I thought she just wanted me to stay. Now I know she had been right. Your heart is not with me anymore… I'm sorry, my love."

"I –" "Don't. I'm so sorry I wasn't by your side, when the darkness had grown again and when you had to let Arwen go."

Elrond looked at her in disbelief. How could she know? He had long thought about how to tell her that she would never see her daughter again. He had feared that moment. And now she already knew.

"How…?"

"Lord Manwe summoned me to tell me about her decision in order to prepare me for your arrival without any of our children. Elladan and Elrohir promised they would follow you, didn't they?"

She looked at him anxiously, waiting for an affirmative answer.

"Yes, they did."

She introduced her grandfather and his son to him and then he found himself in the arms of his king. Ereinion hugged him and Elrond automatically returned the embrace but his mind was elsewhere. It was far away, beyond the Sea where a certain king dwelled, where his heart was. And when later asked what happened after his arrival in Valinor he could only tell that he didn't remember a single thing after being reunited with his wife. He couldn't remember how their company had parted at the piers. He and Celebrian riding to their new home and Galadriel and Celeborn following King Finarfin to his house. He couldn't remember the worried looks Celebrian had throwen at him on their ride to their new home and he couldn't remember his reaction to seeing his future home, a smaller replica of Imladrism, for the first time. He couldn't recall how he had ended up in the rooms that had been prepared for him and how he had finally fallen asleep on the comfortable bed. He could only remember that he had constantly asked himself, how he could have been so blind all this time.

Thranduil entered the library. It was empty for it was in the middle of the night and nobody was still awake, since nobody's mind was as troubled as his. He had tried to find sleep but the hole he had felt in his heart upon the departure of the Peredhel wouldn't let him. He felt lost and alone but he knew he would find relief with his books, like always, even if it was just momentary. But he could always lose himself in the stories of the past and they allowed him to forget what he had lost. And as time passed he would recover as he always had. He walked past the numerous shelves of books and read all the diverse titles, many of them he had yet to read. It only took him a few minutes to find a book whose title raised his interest. He pulled it out of the shelf and sat down on a nearby bench. And as he had foreseen, it didn't take long for him to lose himself in the story, to let his mind wander to a past time, where he hadn't been troubled by something so trivial like losing a friend. Thus he banned the Peredhel from his mind… for the moment.

Elrond sat on a bench on the balcony, from which he could overlook the small valley and the forest that lay directly in front of him. It was still early morning but he hadn't slept well on his first night in Valinor. His mind had been too restless. So he had decided to rise early and greet the day on the balcony, taking in the beauty of the nature that surrounded him. Suddenly he heard small steps in the big public room to which the balcony belonged. He turned his head and saw Celebrian coming towards him. She wore a white dress and her long silver hair flowed over her shoulders like water. He had always enjoyed watching her, because she was a fair elf, and he still did enjoy it but his heart wasn't into it anymore. She stopped next to him and for a few moments neither of them spoke a word. Elrond didn't know what to say except for telling her how sorry he was, that he wasn't the husband anymore she had left in Middle-earth and expected in Valinor.

"Do you feel like talking?", she suddenly asked and Elrond nodded.

It wouldn't be just to postpone this conversation any longer. Celebrian had been so considerate and hadn't insisted on talking yesterday for he had been really tired.

"Of course."

Celebrian nodded and went over to the balustrade, leaning herself against it with her back thus facing Elrond.

"I'm sorry, Elrond."

Elrond looked at her in surprise.

"Why? It is my fault. I –"

"No.", she cut him off.

"As I already told you yesterday I knew of the risk of losing you when I sailed. Nana warned me, but I didn't believe her. I was naïve, believing your heart would always belong to me even when we were apart. I thought my injuries were far worse than yours, that they would justify me leaving you. I forgot that you had your own demons to fight and that you needed me by your side to face them. I have risked your heart and I lost it."

"Celebrian…"

She raised her hands stopping him.

"I still love you but I know that I have forfeited every claim on your heart."

"I also still love you, but not like I should. I always considered you as one of my closest friends and confidants and you still are. But you don't own my heart anymore."

She nodded and Elrond was sure he could see some tears in the corner of her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I never meant it to happen. I didn't even realize it myself until you embraced me yesterday."

She nodded again.

"Do you want me to leave this house?"

"No! I want you to stay! As complicated as this situation might be, you are still an important part of my life and you still own a part of my heart. But if you prefer to leave then I won't stop you but I would be glad to have you here as a friend."

She sighed.

"I waited so long to see you again. I won't leave now. But I can't promise you that I will stay forever. Someday the need to move on might grow in my heart as well."

He nodded.

"I know."

"But this house I let it be built for you. It is my wish that you live in it. I have many places to call home here in Valinor."

"Thank you."

There was nothing else he could say. He only knew that he didn't deserve this generosity and that if Celebrian ever left he had nobody to share this big house with.

"Will she follow you soon?", she asked out of the blue and Elrond had to swallow hard.

He wished with his whole heart that he would follow him and yet most likely he never would.

"No, most likely not."

She looked at him in surprise but he could also see compassion in her eyes. He knew full well how ridiculous his situation was. First his wife left him in Middle-earth and for centuries his heart would yearn for her. Then when he finally sailed to see her again, his heart already belonged to someone else. So that now here in Valinor his heart would yearn for the one who had stayed in Middle-earth.

"Why?"

"Several things: duty, dislike of the Valar, fear of pulling me down into the darkness."

She looked at him questioningly.

"Who would dislike the Valar."

"Anyone who has fought against Sauron, who saw his father and kin slaughtered, who survived the madness that was Dagorlad."

"But you did too and you do not dislike them."

"But some of the Sindar do, ever since the First Age. They traveled east and some of them settled down with Oropher, living an isolated life in Greenwood. And if you grow up surrounded by certain ideals it is likely that you adopt them as well."

"So it is a male Sindar then?"

He knew she had concluded that from the fact that no female elves had fought at Dagorlad.

"Yes."

"And he belongs to King Thranduil's court?"

"Yes."

"How did you meet? I thought the Thranduil's kingdom was quite isolated and they kept to themselves."

"He came to me for help. An old wound of his caused by dragon's fire pained him. He was looking for relief. I couldn't treat the wound because it was already too old, but I could at least temporarily ease his pain by touching him with Vilya."

"So you meet frequently and you became friends."

Elrond smiled at Celebrian, remembering the first few encounters with the Elvenking, which had been so tedious but had later turned into meetings he had enjoyed so much.

"Do I know him?"

"Yes, you even mentioned his name in this conversation."

She looked at him quizzically and he was sure that she recapitulated their conversation in her head at that very moment. And he could exactly pinpoint the moment she realized who it was.

"King Thranduil!"

"Yes."

And for a little she just met him with disbelief but then she smiled.

"Of all the elves in Middle-earth he would have been the last I would have considered. You never were particularly close. You told me about that grudge he held against you and Gil-Galad after the Last Alliance. But then he never was particularly close to anyone…"

"He decided to put this grudge aside, because the pain ate him up and he didn't want to leave his son when the shadows were growing again. He didn't want him to experience what he had, fighting twelve years on Sauron's battlefields, making decisions that would result in the death of his kin."

"He was stronger than me…", she simply stated and Elrond didn't answer.

He didn't know what to say. So silence reigned between them for quite a while until she broke it again.

"I heard he is not an easy person to love."

"At first sight? Yes." Elrond had to smile, remembering what a nuisance Thranduil could be if he wanted to.

"But when you look behind this façade of his, built of pride and arrogance…"

She watched him looking into the distance, smiling. This smile had once been reserved for her. But not anymore.

"This wound you talked about, was it an ugly sight?"

He peered at her not sure where this was going.

"For those who have seen the horrors of war it is not, for you having been constantly confronted with injured people in Imladris it is not. For someone who has been sheltered and never saw what wounds the creatures of the shadows could inflict, it is. But he hides it using an illusion and I'm sure not many know of it."

"During one of my stays in Lothlorien after I married you, I heard rumors concerning the fate of the Queen of the Woodland Realm. It was said that after she gave birth to her son, she ran into the forest, screaming that she couldn't face his ugliness anymore. Soon after they found her body deep in the woods."

Elrond closed his eyes while his heart went out to the Elvenking. Even though they had become friends, Thranduil had never mentioned his wife and now Elrond finally understood. It had been too painful. He was sure the Elvenking had shown his face to her, had trusted her but she had breached his trust. Maybe that was why the Elvenking had taken so long to open up to him.

"I always thought she was talking about his character, since he was known for being a harsh and distant king…"

"No, I think it wasn't his character she was talking about…"

She came to him and took his hand into hers.

"Thank you for not abandoning me after…"

She left the sentence unfinished but Elrond knew perfectly well what she was talking about. Tears were running down her cheeks and Elrond pulled her into his arms.

"I would have never, never abandoned you! And I still wouldn't for you are so very dear to me."

Thranduil had feared that it might be worse, missing the Peredhel, but now he was quite relieved, for he had too much to do as the King of the Woodland Realm to dwell in the past and to wonder about what might have been. His responsibilities lay with his people and he would do everything to ensure the endurance of his kingdom. Thus he and his men were combing the Greenwood Forest for the many scattered hordes of orcs that had survived the War of the Ring and the attack on Dol Guldur and entered the Greenwood. Narrow-minded as they were, they thought in doing so they could escape the joined forces of the free people of Middle-earth, for the Greenwood was still known as being a hostile environment and not many dared to enter it. What foolish creatures. Thanduil could only find amusement in their desperate attempt to save their forfeited lives. The Greenwood might be known as being hostile but not to him and his kin, to whom it was home. And he knew that the Greenwood would never hide those foul things from him and his kin but would lead him and his men directly to them. So they spent their days in the forest hunting down the spawn of Sauron and Thranduil almost forgot about the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

* * *

I know that I took the easy way out here with Celebrian, buuuuuuut here are my reasons:  
1. I like the Elrond and Celebrian pairing (actually) and it's kind of hard to split up a pairing you actually like and I don't see Celebrian as being a bitch. Since I think that elves are very reasonable creatures and compassionate I think that they are not likely to make a scene or very prone to jealousy. And I don't think she would hate Elrond for falling in love again.  
2. She was warned by her mother and could prepare herself for what was to come. Thank god, she has Galadriel as her mother, who can look into the future.^^ Made it easier for me... ;-P  
3. This story gets longer and longer... -.- and I really didn't want to have to add a Celebrian-is-making-Elrond's-life-a-living-hell-arc. The same applies for the part were Celebrian tells Elrond that she already knew about Manwe. I read a story were somebody also let Manwe do the hard job and since them talking about the children there on the pier I decided to also do it this way.

So please excuse the easy way out here...

And according to the internet Siriann is a Silvan name for a male elf... I hope so.^^


End file.
